


Simple Twist of Fate

by Lillies_roses



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M, alternative ending to the worst storyline ever, don't worry it'll be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-01-18 18:57:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 28,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21281642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillies_roses/pseuds/Lillies_roses
Summary: James and Harry didn't immediately return to the village after they spent the night in a B&B by the sea.  Instead, they did something for just the two of them, which changed everything.Starts after Jarry’s date in the Dog on 17.7.19
Relationships: James Nightingale/Harry Thompson
Comments: 167
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I keep thinking about how so many moments and choices could have gone differently, and could have changed the outcome of Jarry's story. This is quite a major one! Enjoy :)

Standing on the balcony, tiles cool beneath his bare feet, Harry pulled a rough white sheet around himself and leant against the wrought iron railing. The heat of the day lingered in the air, and from their room on the top floor of the B&B Harry could see across the roofs of the nearby houses and out to sea. The sun had dipped below the horizon, a halo of soft light casting out from the water, and the sky was an ever darkening blue. Small stars had begun to blink their way into sight.

Harry’s gaze was soft. He let out a long breath. The tranquillity of the moment felt so sudden, so at odds with the last weeks of his life. How had he ended up here again? Once more accused of something he didn’t do, teetering on the brink. The slightest breeze could topple him, he knew, and he was proving quite adept at creating gales all by himself. He’d lied to the police, forced Romeo into giving a false alibi, missed meeting Sadie at the station, and all while trying to keep so much from James. Not to mention what he had been doing with Ste. Risking his relationship, the one person he had been trying to keep in his life, for a tiny bit of familiar comfort and a few facebook contacts. If he had lost James due to that stupid kiss... The rest of his troubles seemed to pale next to the prospect of losing James. These last days had shown him what their relationship could be once all this was behind them. Time spent with James’ family and time spent just the two of them, it was all he had wanted. All that he had lied and snuck around to preserve. How close he had come to losing it.

“Penny for them?” Harry turned as James squeezed through the glass doors, wrapped in a dressing gown and carrying two glasses of red wine. Harry pulled the sheet a little tighter with one hand, and took the glass with the other. Sitting on one of the wooden chairs, he lifted his feet onto the seat and pulled his knees towards his chin. James took the seat opposite, crossing one long leg over the other.

“I was just thinking… today, the last few days, they’ve been perfect.” Harry said, taking a small sip from his glass and letting the warmth of the wine run over his tongue. “I’d forgotten what it was like, you know, to ignore everything else and just be us.” James made a soft sound of agreement, leaning back in his chair. He looked more relaxed than he’d been in months. “Everything’s going to change now.” Harry added, a small frown creasing his forehead. “One way or another, it’s all going to change.”

“It doesn’t have to.” James leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes searching Harry’s. “It can go back to how it was, just you and me.”

“It’s never been just you and me, though, has it? Ste, Romeo, Sadie… there’s always someone else pulling on our sleeves. It’s never just been us.”

“It could be.” James murmured.

“Yeah.” Harry sighed, and bit his lip. He looked at this man in front of him. His dark hair unusually disheveled; His dappled beard and bright eyes; The lines of worry on his forehead, and the ones that crinkled his eyes when he laughed. No, he couldn’t lose this man. No matter what happened now, he would never give him up. Could never. This was it.

“Marry me.” Harry almost whispered.

“What?”

Harry knew how this must sound. His annulment from Ste had only come through a couple of months ago, right before everything else had blown up. He was facing prison, facing fatherhood. Everything was unsure, and yet he felt so sure in this moment. He shuffled his feet across the floor until the tips of his bare toes brushed against James’ and reached out to touch his hands.

“Marry me, James.” He repeated. “We’re in this together right? I don't want anything to change between us. Please? Marry me.”

James looked completely caught off guard. James Nightingale speechless wasn’t something that happened everyday, but for a moment he simply stared at Harry, dumbfounded. Then he slowly nodded his head.

  


Harry stood outside the large stone building, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. The venue, nothing particularly outstanding, had been chosen chiefly for its proximity to their Bed and Breakfast, a mere 15 minutes down the road. Harry was wearing the suit he had chosen for their date at the Dog the day before, the checkered tie pressing uncomfortably against his throat. He hated ties. Neither he nor James had brought proper attire, nothing like the bright outfits that he and Ste had chosen for their wedding or the morning suit he’d imagined James wearing if they made it to this day. It didn’t matter. He’d done the big wedding; the expensive suits and the flowers and the dozens of guests. This was different. This was _ more._

James reappeared through the wooden doors, taking the stone steps two at a time to end up by his side.

“Now we should really have given notice to marry months ago, but I managed to pull a few strings and get us a backdated form. They’ve got a slot in half an hour. It’ll only be short, someone is booked in just after, but it’s the best we can get at this notice.”

“Grease some palms, did you?” Harry teased.

“I’m not going to reveal my methods of persuasion to you.” James replied impassively. “How else will I continue to impress you as we embark upon the banality of marital bliss?”

“I’m sure you can think of a way.” Harry smiled, shifting onto his toes to kiss him.

“So, you know what you’re doing?” James asked, and Harry nodded. “Right, I’ll see you back here in about 20 minutes.” James turned and half ran back to the car.

Harry walked down the road, keeping his eyes peeled for anyone who looked like they might be willing to do a huge favour for a total stranger. The options were thin on the ground. A couple of builders stood atop scaffolding, a pregnant mother pushing a pram. Finally, Harry spotted a pub on the opposite side of the road, ancient looking with a painted sign hanging above the door and dark, low windows. He nervously fingered the 50 pound note that James had slid into his pocket, wondering if he would have to offer an incentive to persuade 11am drinkers to witness his wedding. It wasn’t the most romantic thought.

20 minutes later Harry stood once again outside the town hall, though more nervous than before. The sky had turned overcast, a light, warm rain beginning to fall. Harry watched as James ran up the street, one hand protecting his face from the gentle drizzle, and stopped in front of him. Breathing heavily and without speaking, James passed a small box into Harry’s palm. He kept hold of a second, identical box. Harry snapped his open to reveal a thin silver band inside.

“It’s just temporary.” James said, offering Harry a nervous smile. “We’ll replace them. I found an Argos up the road, which clearly won’t do for the long run, but…”

“They’re perfect.” Harry interrupted. 

“Did you manage to find someone willing to witness?”

“Babs and Alan Brinkley are waiting for us inside. Never been to a gay wedding, so they’re maybe more excited than we are.”

James arched an eyebrow. “You did explain that it is unlikely to be the ostentatious affair they’re expecting?” Harry laughed, and James’ eyes softened. “Are you sure this is what you want, Harry? Your Dad and Dianne aren’t even here.”

“Yeah, it is.” Harry nodded his head vigorously to emphasise his words. “Anyway, it’s your family who we live with. If anyone should be invited it’s them.”

James seemed to think about this for a moment, and then shook his head. “No, it’s better this way. Mother tends to overindulge at weddings, and I can’t see Juliet getting through a whole ceremony without a certain amount of histrionics.” He paused for a moment, and his voice lowered. “It might have been nice if Romeo could have… But no, you’re the only one I need here.”

“Yeah, me too”.

“Ok.” James took a deep breath, and smoothed down the front of his suit jacket. “See you on the other side then.”

  
Harry attempted to centre himself, wiping his clammy hands on his trousers. His stomach was full of knots, and he tried to remember some of the breathing exercises Holly had taught him when she was going through her yoga phase. When it was clear these weren’t working, he followed in James’ footsteps, up the stairs and through the large doors.

Harry could see signs marking the way to the ceremony room, proudly announcing the wedding succeeding theirs. ‘Rachel and Paul’s Big Day’. He stopped when he got to the door, placing his palm on the handle and took a deep breath. But before he opened the it, Harry noticed a small sound system just next to the door. Assuming it was connected to the interior of the room, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, turning it on and plugging in the cable. Harry quickly opened Spotify, and typed into the search bar a piece by Bach. He had first heard it through the speakers of James’ car during a late night drive, a return from some client party or other. He had been dozing, the outside world hidden in shadow, the heating turned up high, and James humming softly beside him. The music had filled his mind, and he had felt so safe in that moment. The depth to the music, a soft, almost melancholic beauty, made him think of James. He had often found himself listening to it through his headphones.

Harry opened the door, and walked into the hall. As the melodic cello filled the space around them, James turned to face the entrance, to face Harry. His face was solemn, and Harry almost laughed at how dignified he was. As he reached the front of the aisle, Harry couldn’t hold back his grin. James’ mask cracked slightly, the sides of his mouth twitching upwards. He reached out to clutch Harry’s hand.

The short woman who stood in front of them, cropped mousy hair and a smart trouser suit, began to speak. It was funny that Harry had barely noticed her presence, or registered what she was saying now. His eyes were locked into James’, unfaltering. It wasn’t until she seemed to direct her words to James that he realised it was their turn to speak.

“I’m not very good at… well, at emotional speeches. Maybe I’m not very good at emotions, I don’t know. But I thought perhaps I could purloin another's words, and read something.” James reached inside his jacket pocket, retrieving a piece of folded paper, covered in scratchy handwriting. As he unfolded it he said, “Cumming’s words, perhaps, but my sentiment.” He cleared his throat, and looked down at the paper in his trembling hands.

“_I carry your heart.” _James began.

Harry wiped each of his eyes in turn with the heel of his hand. Hold it together, he told himself as James continued. James’ eyes finally left the paper in front of him and looked up into Harry’s, now delivering the words from memory. As James finished there was silence for a moment, which Harry couldn't help but break as a quiet hiccough escaped from his throat.

“_Di quell'amor, ch'è palpito dell'universo, dell'universo intero_.” James added in a murmur.

The short woman now turned to Harry. “Harry, it’s your turn.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Well, I can’t recite poetry by heart or anything… but, I guess I’ve spent a lot of my life looking for somewhere to belong. It’s why I came to Hollyoaks in the first place, why I stayed with the family I had for longer than I should’ve. But with you I feel like I can be me for the first time. Like I’m _ enough._ It feels like home. I've never felt as safe.” James’ eyes darted from Harry’s momentarily, and Harry thought he saw something flash in them, pain or guilt. But no, he must have been imagining it, imagining the worst. Harry continued, trying hard to keep the tears overwhelming his eyes from escaping down his cheeks. He always had been able to cry for England. “Your family is my family and your home is my home. You do have my heart. You’ve had it for a long time, and… I think it’s safe with you too. I love you. More than anything else, I love you.”

For their first night as a married couple, Harry and James had decided to leave the B&B and instead get a suite at a hotel in the countryside. Harry could barely contain his delight as they entered the foyer, eyes darting around the grand old building, taking in all the splendour as James arranged their stay. It was the same once they got to the suite, a young doorman in a red uniform carrying their bags just ahead of them. “There’s a bath in the bloody room, James. Do you see? _ In _ the room.” James had laughed, and wrapped his arms around Harry from behind, leaning down to kiss the side of his throat. “And we’ll take full advantage of that fact once our friend over there leaves us.” James whispered, and the hairs on Harry’s neck stood up. James discreetly handed the doorman a tip and ordered champagne from room service, as Harry took off his jacket, loosened his tie and lay back on the four-poster bed.

“Oi, Nightingale, stop faffing and get over here.” He called.

James sat down beside Harry on the bed. “I think you’re going to come up with a new nickname. You’ll soon officially be a Nightingale too.”

“Oh, is that right? Well, what about Smart Alec? Or… Chicken Legs?”

“I don’t have chicken legs.” James scoffed, giving Harry a genuinely wounded look. Harry laughed, squeezing James’ thigh through his trousers.

“What you have, _ Nightingale,_ are my favourite legs. So let’s get these off, yeah?”

  
“I can’t believe we have to go home. My plea hearing is only a few days away. Back to reality, eh?” Harry rolled over on the bed, and flung his arm over James’ bare stomach. James lazily stroked his fingertips across Harry’s skin, coming to rest just over his pulse.

“I’ll find a way to get you off this, Harry. I promise. I won’t let you down.”

“I know.” Harry murmured, turning to kiss James’ jawbone through the scratch of his beard. “But first, find a way to get me something to eat. I’m starving.”

Giving Harry a small push, James extracted himself from his beneath his arms and legs. He shrugged on a white hotel robe and threw the room service menu to Harry. Picking up his trousers from where they lay discarded on the floor, James perched on the arm of the plush sofa and got his phone out of the pocket. He looked down at it with a small frown. “That’s strange, I’ve got a missed call from Tony.” James swiped his finger across the screen, and held the phone to his ear. “He wants you to call him. He sounds a bit worked up. Well, more worked up than usual.”

Harry reached over for his own phone, sitting on the bedside table, and pressed the button down. The phone flashed on. In the car on the way, Harry had sat in the passenger seat as James hummed along to an aria on the radio, a little habit Harry had noticed whenever he was feeling content. As they drove further inland, the signal on Harry’s phone, absent by the sea, had returned. His phone had begun to beep with missed calls and messages. Harry had swiped through them. Ste. Ste, Ste, Ste. A couple of missed calls from his father, probably wondering where he and James had disappeared to for the night, but other than that message after message, call after call from Ste. Harry couldn’t help but wonder again what had he been thinking, getting involved with him? For one thing, Ste was in deep with his hateful friends, and couldn’t seem to see the ways in which he was changing. And then, of course, James. He had glanced across at James, face so serene as he focussed on the road ahead. No, he had thought, he wouldn’t risk this again. He had pressed down the off button without reading a single message.

Now Harry could see that he had even more missed calls on his phone, although his father’s had overtaken Ste’s in frequency. He held his thumb down on his dad’s name, and placed the phone to his ear. “Hi Dad, you called me…?”

James came to sit next to Harry, taking the menu from beside him and perusing it as his hand rested heavily at the top of Harry’s thigh.

“Ok…” Harry sat up as he listened. “Ok… shit… yeah, we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

As Harry hung up, James glanced up at him with a look of mild interest.

“Sadie’s had the baby. She was back in the village for some reason, I guess, and she went into labour. Dad found her, he’s at the hospital with her now. He knows it’s mine. It’s a… he’s a boy”. Harry felt his whole body brace. He could see James’ jaw tighten, the smallest frown pulling his eyebrows together. He looked away. “I’ve got to go back.” He added quietly.

“Well then.” James said, “Back to reality, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i carry your heart with me(i carry it in by e. e. cummings.
> 
> Arioso from Cantata by Bach.
> 
> The line "Di quell'amor, quell'amor ch'è palpate, Dell'universo, Dell'universo intern" is from 'Un dì, felice, eterea', a duet from La Traviata. It means “Love that's the pulse of the universe, the whole universe”. Alfredo is confessing his love to Violetta, a courtesan, having loved her from a distance for a long time. She says she cannot love him, but of course ends up falling irrevocably for him. There is deception and jealousy before Violetta tragically dies. I love this opera!


	2. Chapter 2

The hospital room was small but warm and quiet, away from the bustle of the main maternity ward. The blinds were pulled down, dusk light pushing through the slats and the sound of soft summer rain pattering against the windows. The faint visceral smell of sweat and blood lingered. James stood in the doorway, feet straddling the threshold. His fingers twitched in his pockets as he watched Harry across the room. Harry stood at the foot of the bed, gently rocking the baby in his arms. His baby. His lips moved softly, whispering something that James couldn’t hear. After Tony’s phone call that afternoon, Harry had been so agitated that they almost immediately packed up and left the hotel. Only hours before they had been alone, making promises of forever. Then suddenly James found himself speeding back to Hollyoaks, to all the people and all the complications vying for Harry’s attention. As he watched Harry gaze down at his child, he could feel his heartbeat in stomach, in his skull. All he had wanted was the two of them, just the two of them. Now James could only see what might come in between and tear them apart. He had tried the step-father role before, and it had been a disaster. Add to that Harry’s exes flitting around them, and a prison sentence on the horizon. He felt like Damocles, except that the swords hung not only above, but came from every direction.

As James watched on from the door, Harry turned his head to him. A disbelieving smile pulled at the sides of his lips, and he inclined his chin slightly towards James. An invitation. Mustering courage that he wasn’t sure he had and hadn’t realised he would need, James walked slowly to stand beside Harry and the child. Unaware of the turmoil whirling in his mind, Harry simply beamed up at him. “Look at him.” He whispered, and James did. Blue eyes wide and searching, the boy looked back. Harry’s fingertips were slowly stroking his soft, pale arm. The ring that James had put on Harry’s finger just that morning caught the light. A ring whose twin was on his own finger. A promise, afterall. James put one hand on the small of Harry’s back, drawing in closer and letting out a long breath. He gently rested the other on the top of the child’s head. 

“He’s called Isaac.” Sadie’s voice cut through the moment, and Harry and James both looked up to where moments before she had been sleeping. Lying back in the narrow hospital bed, her curly hair was wild and exhaustion coloured every feature of her face. As she stared at them, James felt a stab of guilt. The last time he’d seen her, he had offered her money when she needed protection. The time before that, he’d demanded that Harry choose between them. His actions had stopped Harry from supporting her, and stopped her from helping Harry in turn. Pressing his lips firmly together, James fixed his gaze on the obscured windows.

“Hi Isaac.” Harry murmured. The child peered up at him, a nonplussed look on his tiny features. “I’m your Daddy.”

“How long have you two been here?” Sadie asked tersely. Her eyes narrowed as they slid from Harry and Isaac to James so close beside them. “What do you want?”

Harry took a step forward, gnawing gently at his lip, his stance uncharacteristically tense. This was his moment. So much depended on Sadie helping him, but James knew there was something else now too. He had seen the change the moment Harry met his son. This wasn’t just about clearing his name anymore. This was about him being a father.

“My dad told me what happened. You know, you having Isaac at the Hutch. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wanted to see if you were okay. And… I guess I wanted to meet him.” Harry licked his lip where a tiny drop of blood was oozing out.

“That’s not what you said before, Harry.” Sadie said. “I only came back here because I needed money. I was that desperate. You left me on my own. You made your choice, Harry.” Sadie gestured her arms impatiently, and Harry reluctantly passed Isaac into them. His empty hands swung uselessly at his sides for a few moments, before one found James’ and slipped into it. James’ pressed his fingers into the back of Harry’s hand.

“I know what I said, but I’d…” Harry paused and glanced at James, a question in his eyes. James nodded, such a small movement that he feared Harry may have missed it. But Harry squeezed his hand back, and turned to Sadie. “ _ We’d _ like to be a part of his life.”

“It’s too late for that, Harry.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Harry let go of James, and sat down on the bed. He reached forwards slightly, his fingers brushing Sadie’s knee. “Look, if you just went to the police, gave me the alibi then we could look after you both.”

“No, Harry. Do you know what Liam would do?” Sadie avoided Harry’s eyes and, though in her face she seemed not to waver, James could hear the fear in her voice. “We’re not going to rely on you. I gave you a chance. You didn’t come.”

“I…”

“I don’t want excuses.” Sadie interrupted. “I’ve got him to think of now. You’re not getting the chance to let us down again.” She began to fuss over Isaac, wrapping his blanket more tightly around his little body. She was done talking. A hush stretched between them, the only sound in the room Isaac’s infantile burbles.

Some time passed before the silence was broken, the door opening and letting in a rosy-cheeked nurse. Her cheerful greetings unknowingly interrupted the tension. “Okay, boys.” She smiled at them each in turn. “Visiting hours are over. Let’s let mum and baby get some rest, eh?’

Harry lingered for a moment, his eyes still fixed on Sadie. “Please...” He murmured. Sadie didn’t move. “Alright. Okay, fine.” Harry carefully touched the soft hair on Isaac’s head, smoothing his thumb down his forehead. “Bye little man. I… I love you.” He whispered, before standing and taking James’ hand again. As he began to move them both towards the door James stalled, pulling him gently back.

“Wait.” James said abruptly, and let go of Harry’s hand. “Sadie, it’s my fault that Harry didn’t meet you that day.”

“Nice try, James, but Harry’s the one who made the choice. He chose you.” Sadie shrugged, and shook her head at them.

“That’s not what I mean. Just hear me out. If you want nothing more to do with Harry afterwards, we’ll leave.” James glanced at Harry, his face full of confusion. He quickly looked away.

Sadie seemed to be weighing her options, a frown creasing her soft features. “Can we have a couple of minutes?” She finally asked the young nurse, who hesitated, conflicted, then reluctantly closed the door behind her. Sadie turned to James expectantly. “Go on then.” She said.

James cleared his throat and straightened his tie, his fingers shaking slightly. “The day Harry was meant to meet you,” He began, voice far stronger than he felt inside, “he was… incapacitated. He was on his way to you. He meant to come.” James could feel Harry’s eyes on his face, imploring him to turn and give some indication of what he was talking about. He kept his own resolutely on Sadie. “I was under the impression that Harry was going to meet somebody else, someone I believed to be detrimental to him. I, uh, I put something in his drink.”

“You did what?” Sadie almost looked as though she wanted to laugh, disbelief choking her voice. James didn’t dare to see what Harry’s face showed in that moment.

“I believed that I was protecting him by stopping him from going. He was unconscious at the time you were waiting for him.” James continued, “I’ll leave the two of you to discuss how you move forwards, but… just know that Harry didn’t let you down. I did.”

As he turned toward the door, James finally glimpsed Harry. His mouth was opening and closing like a farcical fish, eyes wide and utterly uncomprehending. James left quickly, his feet rushing without thought from the room and down the hallway. Once he turned the corner, he halted and rested a hand against the wall to steady himself. He leant forwards, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. He could feel the nausea rising in his stomach.

“James, wait.” James stood up, and closed his eyes as he heard Harry’s footsteps drawing close behind him. He attempted to refix the mask on his face, to disguise his anguish. One look at Harry and he feared it would be a fool’s errand. Harry finally reached him, the picture of confusion and concern. “James, I don’t understand. What you said, was that… was it true?”

James swallowed, and looked into Harry’s eyes. Blue eyes so youthful, in spite of all he had been through. “It was.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” Harry searched his face. What was he looking for? He wouldn’t find it.

“I thought you were going to see Ste.” James began to explain. “I didn’t want you to throw everything away for him again. I wanted you to...”

“You drugged me!” Harry’s voice came out higher than usual, louder than even he seemed to expect.

“I did.”

“I told you so many times. I told you that you’re the one I wanted, I told you I don’t have feelings for Ste anymore. For god’s sake, I  _ married _ you this morning. And what, you still didn’t trust me? How could you do that to me?” Harry paused, breathing hard. Did he really want an answer?

“Because I’m controlling and possessive.” James said, fighting to keep his face still, not to give himself away. “Truly I am my father’s son.” 

“No…” Harry whispered. “No, I don’t believe it.” Then he shook his head and walked away.

Harry sighed, as he sat down heavily on the edge of Sadie’s bed. She swung her legs around so they were side by side, and put her hand over his where it rested on his knee.

“Was that true? What James said?” She murmured, her voice now kind and low.

“Yeah… it was.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.” She winced, trying to catch his eye.

“I didn’t really give you a lot of reasons to, did I?”

Sadie rubbed the back of Harry’s hand, her thumb moving over the silver band on his finger. “What’s this?” She asked gently.

“I dunno… a mistake?” Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands over his face. He was so tired. Everyday seemed to bring a new bombshell at the moment, another thing to turn his life upside down. Just today he’d felt so many conflicting emotions, he felt like his head was going to explode.

“I seem to remember you getting married by mistake once before. The last time we sat like this, in fact.” Sadie said, her hand now rubbing Harry’s back. He gave a snort, half laughing into his palms.

“Yeah, and we both know what happened when you tried to comfort me that time.” Harry lowered his hands from his face and attempted to return Sadie’s smile. “And that led nowhere good.”

“Cheers! Anyway, I reckon some good came from it.” Sadie nodded her head towards the small cot, where Isaac now lay sleeping on his back, tiny hands in small fists and stomach rising and falling with deep sleepy breaths. “This seems a bit different to that time, though. You and James…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Harry snapped. He stood up, pulling himself away from Sadie’s touch. “Look, I think I’m gonna go over to my dad’s. I’ll ask him if you and Isaac can stay for a bit when they let you out of here.”

“Thanks, Harry.” Sadie mumbled.

“Don’t mention it.” Harry replied, already crossing to the door.

“I mean it. Thanks for looking out for us. We’ll work this all out.”

Harry nodded and smiled, raising his hand in a halfhearted wave as he walked from the room. On the other side, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes, fighting to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough one to write! So much dialogue!


	3. Chapter 3

Harry had slept badly that night. It had been impossible to switch off his brain, to stop himself from replaying the day. Each moment that he lay staring at the familiar paint peeling from the ceiling brought something back; a touch in the registry office, the sigh of his newborn son, the drop of his stomach when he heard James’ words. He closed his eyes tight, willing sleep to overtake him but it wouldn’t come. Each time he turned he felt the air bed sag a little more, and worried his tossing would wake Isaac. Isaac was laid on his back, sleeping softly next to Sadie in the bed that had been Harry and Ste’s until last year. So much had changed since then. Harry could barely wrap his head around being back at his dad’s, back in this room, feeling like a teenage screwup once again.

By the time Harry dropped into a shallow sleep, the blinking red light next to the bed was closing in on 4 o’clock. Not two hours later he was roused by a high pitched wail, fighting to open his eyes against the crust that coated his lids. Sadie was sat up in bed, holding Isaac against her chest and making shushing sound, her eyes wide. She looked so completely out of her depth that Harry made sure he suppressed his groan as he went to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea.

The rest of the morning had flown by in a whirl of ordering baby items from Amazon, reassuring Sadie that of course it was normal for new babies to cry this much, and trying to deflect Tony’s questions about what had happened to make him leave James’ again. By the time he had managed to extract himself from the house, under the guise of going to stock up on nappies, his head was throbbing and he felt faint and shaky.

Harry made his way to the Teahouse. As he entered, he tried to ignore the way so many eyes turned towards him. Once again, the suspicions of the village were directed entirely at him. And after what had happened with Amy, who could blame them for believing the lies. He was the man who had attacked a woman and left her for dead. The man who cheated on his fiance, betrayed his family while his sister was in hospital. The boy who knocked up a girl, before moving in with the most hated man in the village and leaving her out in the cold. And now the hit and run? Who could argue with it? Sometimes Harry almost believed that he _ would _ have been capable of leaving Grace, just as he’d left Ryan, left Amy. But then he remembered looking down at Amy’s still body on the floor, and all the things he’d done to try to scrub that image from his mind. No, he couldn't have done it again. Let everyone else think what they wanted.

Harry bought a cappuccino, not lingering to make small talk with any of the staff or other customers. They may have been acquaintances once, but now Harry barely looked them in the eye. He made his way back into the bright sunlight. He felt it was mocking him, shining down on the mess that was his life. A brand new day, exactly the same old problems. Harry paused for a moment by the pond, leaning against the rail. The metal was cool against the bare skin of his arms. He closed his eyes.

“‘iya.” Harry frowned slightly at the familiar voice next to his elbow. He opened his eyes, surprised by how close Ste had got without him realising. Ste leaned forwards, mirroring Harry and followed his gaze down into the murky river.

“Hey.” Harry replied.

“You alright?” Ste asked, ending the short silence between them. It felt oddly comfortable, despite the way they had left things. “It’s your plea hearing tomorrow, ain’t it?” He added.

Harry nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the brownish green water below them.

“That the only reason you’re feeling down?” Ste gently nudged his shoulder against Harry’s. “I heard Diane talking in Price Slice. Back at your Dad’s, eh?”

“Yeah.” Harry fingered his coffee cup, flicking his thumbnail against edge of the plastic lid.

“So you and James?”

He let out a deep sigh through his nose, and shook his head slightly, still not looking at Ste. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the triumph on his face.

“You want some company?” Ste asked finally, his voice unexpectedly gentle. Harry didn’t ask him to stay, nor to leave. He smiled tightly, lips pursed together until Ste said “Made a bit of a mess of it again, ain’t ya?” and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, that’s the understatement of the century.” He turned to look at Ste finally, at the familiar eyes crinkling at the corners. “Seems to be my MO at the moment.

Ste returned Harry’s laugh. Then he frowned, hesitating for a moment. “Do you ever think about what it’d be like?” He asked. There was something uncharacteristically measured in it. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Harry. “You know, if we’d gone the distance? Stayed married.”

“Sometimes.” Harry murmured. He could have said no, but if he was honest with himself it had crossed his mind. Everything had been such a mess recently. What if he could have taken it all back? Chosen his family again, followed his head instead of his heart. Ignored the feelings for James that had hit him like a tidal wave last autumn. Although, as he was being honest with himself, he knew that wasn’t true either. His love for James had been less a wave and more of a steady trickle. For three years it had filled him up until he could no longer ignore that he was drowning in it. He could only hold his breath and hope to make it out alive. In some ways he was still drowning. But there was no life raft this time. James wasn’t there to drag him out.

Harry was pulled from his thoughts as he felt Ste’s hand rest heavily on top of his. He slowly began to rub his thumb back and forth.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked quietly. Ste didn’t reply, just continued the movement over Harry’s hand. He licked his lips. “Ste, stop.” Harry jerked away, and Ste’s face contorted in confusion.

“But you said… you and James…?”

“That doesn’t change anything with you and me.” Harry shook his head, exasperated. “I already told you!” Ste dropped his gaze, his dark eyebrows knitting together. Harry sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I do care about you, Ste. I’ll always love you, you’re like my… I’m not _ in love _ with you. I haven’t been in a long time. You know that, right?”

A shadow fell across Ste’s face, and as he looked up Harry could see the hurt twisting into anger. “You know what, I’m well off out of this. You go running back to your precious James, eh? I’ll go find the people who actually care about me.” Ste raised his hand in a half wave, turning to stalk back towards the Teahouse. Harry watched him go. He swallowed. He couldn’t run back to James. And he couldn’t run to Ste either. Too much had changed. He had to stop running.

Sadie and Tony were sitting on the sofa as Harry reemerged into the flat, cradling the promised nappies in his arms. They both turned when they heard him, and Tony lifted his finger to his lips. Sadie held a sleeping Isaac to her, red eyes accentuated by the deep shadows below them. She smiled at Harry as he gently took Isaac from her, and carried him to the bedroom. Placing him in the middle of the bed and removing the pillows from around him, Harry took a moment to gaze down at his son. God, he really was a miracle. He leant over and kissed the top of his tiny head. “I love you.” He whispered.

Harry returned to the living room. Sadie was sitting in the same spot, his father now bustling around the kitchen.

“Dad, come here?” Harry called through. “I need to talk to you both.” Tony finished straightening some jars before making his way over.

“What is it, son?” He asked, wiping his hands on his knees.

“Okay.” Harry said, waiting for his dad to take a seat beside Sadie. He stayed standing, eyes darting between the two of them. “So, I've been thinking a lot and… I don’t think Sadie should talk to the police.”

“What about your alibi?” Sadie asked, looking totally bewildered by his change of heart. Tony simply frowned, watching his son carefully.

“Look, we all know what Liam could do to you if he found out. We know what he's capable of. We can’t risk that. Isaac… he needs his mum. I need to keep you both safe.” Harry turned his gaze to his father then, searching his eyes. “I know I’ve not always taken responsibility for things I’ve done. I’ve made some big mistakes, and I haven’t faced up to them. But I’m responsible for Isaac. I’ve _ got _ to keep him safe. That’s the most important thing now.” Harry paused, and he saw his father nod slightly. He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna plead guilty tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, had to get the Ste shit out of the way. Done. Let's move on ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit rushed atm. Hope no mistakes.

James knew that he needed to move from the spot where he lay on the sofa, was aware of what would happen if his mother or Romeo came home to find him here, the questions that they would ask. The where, and how, and why. Harry was gone again, and he knew he couldn’t begin to explain why he wasn’t coming back this time. But still James was unable to stand from the sofa he had slept on. And still he drank, wearing the suit he had married Harry in the morning before. The files from Harry’s case lay spread across the coffee table, the windows shut and curtains drawn against the summer sun. Solitude, so often craved throughout his life, felt overwhelming in the stuffy room.

The sudden trill of James’ mobile broke through the silence. Sitting up, he fumbled in his pocket. The phone slipped from his heavy fingers twice before he managed to squint down at the brightening screen. He swiped to answer, wearily holding the handset against his ear. “Maalik.” 

“I got your messages. What do you want, James? I’m really busy.” Sami sounded distracted, and James bit his tongue against the derision that rose within him. 

“I need you to represent Harry tomorrow. At his plea hearing.” James continued, ignoring the scoffing sound he heard from the other end of the line. “I’ll pay you, of course. I’ll double what your time is worth. Triple it.”

“I thought you’d got your head around all that. What do you need  _ me _ for?”

James paused, fingering the tie that hung loose around his neck. He picked up the glass tumbler from the table and took a gulp the whiskey inside, wincing involuntary. “Something has happened and… it would no longer be ethical for me to represent Harry in court. You already have an overview of his case and I…” James swallowed his pride, chasing it down with the remainder of the amber alcohol. “I need the best.”

James could just imagine the smirk on Sami’s lips. “Alright. I’ll cancel my meetings tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Sami. I wouldn’t have asked if… I’ll bring the files around later.”

“Okay. And James?” Sami said, “Triple pay, remember.” He heard Sami chuckle to himself, before the line went dead.

James sighed, and lay back onto the cushions of the sofa again. He held his glass against his forehead, still cool from the ice cubes that had already melted in the heavy heat of the afternoon. He closed his eyes, and tried not to see Harry’s face behind them, Harry’s eyes. He must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knew the room was in total darkness, and someone was knocking insistently at the door. James wiped the cuff of his shirtsleeve against the side of his mouth, where a small quantity of dribble had pooled. The knocking continued. “Alright, alright! I’m coming.” He said loudly, smoothing his hair and suit the best he could after his impromptu nap. He made his way to the door, fumbling with the side lamp as he did, and opened it.

Harry stood on the other side, hands stuffed in his shorts’ pockets and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He lowered his gaze, not looking at James. James turned and walked towards the kitchen, leaving the door open behind him. He knew Harry had taken a step in when he heard the door click shut. He turned again to face him.

“Forget your key?” He asked, his voice hard. He gave Harry an unconvincing smile, but Harry still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I, uh… I thought I should keep you up to date. You know, coz you’re my… my lawyer.” Harry cleared his throat and shuffled his feet again, eyes still on the floor. “I’m not coming home.” He looked up then, eyes locking with James’. James felt his jaw tighten, but tried not to let his face betray his dismay. What had he expected? For Harry to come back to the flat with arms open, full of forgiveness? What had he ever done to deserve that? “I’m not staying at my dad’s either.” Harry continued, and James couldn't stop his mind from jumping back to the visions that had so recently plagued him. Surely not Ste? His countenance must have exposed him, because Harry grimaced and shook his head decisively. “No! No, I’m… I’m actually going to plead guilty. Tomorrow.”

James’ facade completely crumbled then. “But… you can’t! You said… surely Sadie will give you the alibi now. I can...”

“I don’t want her to.” Harry interrupted. He ran his hand through his hair, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t do it. I didn't hit Grace.”

“I do.” James muttered faintly. “I know.”

“But I may as well have.” Harry carried on, ignoring James’ quiet disputes. “My life got totally blown up anyway. And now you and me…” Harry averted his gaze again, eyes glassy in the soft lamplight, and James felt something crack in his chest. “It’s all over,” Harry whispered. “But not for Sadie, and not for Isaac. Liam could really hurt them. I can’t let that happen.”

James swallowed. “So you’ll sacrifice yourself for…”

“For my son.” Harry said, his voice firm once more. “Yeah.”

James nodded. “Well.” He said, after a pause. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m no longer your lawyer. Or I wouldn’t let you do it.” Harry frowned. “I’ve asked Sami to represent you tomorrow, after… after everything.”

“Thanks.” Harry mumbled.

“Look, I know what I did was…”

“I don’t wanna hear it, James. I didn’t come here to make up. I just thought you should know.”

“Right. Of course.” James turned, walking further into the kitchen. Harry didn’t make a move to leave. “Drink?” James asked finally.

“Yeah.” Harry said, scrubbing his fingers against his eyelids. James opened the fridge, taking out a half empty bottle of sauvignon, and poured the majority of it into a glass. He handed it to Harry. “I think I’ll have something stronger.” He said, as he made his way back to the tumbler and whisky bottle on the coffee table. He poured some out and downed it in one swallow. Then he turned back to Harry. He too had drunk most of the contents of his glass, and was looking at James with narrow eyes. Inscrutable. James bit his lip. He didn’t know if he’d have another chance to explain. Would he have another chance to talk to Harry at all? To look at his face, or touch his skin? This could be it. He took a step forward. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing, Harry.” James was surprised to hear his voice shake as he spoke. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I said stop.” Harry took another large gulp of his wine, and placed the glass on the side. Very slowly he approached James, coming to stop directly in front of him. He lifted his hand to James’ chest, fingertips resting softly over the buttons of his crumpled shirt.

“What are you doing?” James was rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle as Harry, eyes fixed on his own fingers, began to stroke them very softly back and forth.

“I dunno.” Harry continued his tiny movements, until one finger slipped under the seam and met James’ skin. James felt himself shudder. “James.” Harry murmured, barely moving his lips. “James, I’m going to prison tomorrow. I’m scared, and I just… I need this.”

With that Harry raised his eyes to James’, wide and pleading now. James understood. Who was he to deny Harry this cold comfort? Would he have been able even if he had wanted to? He doubted it very much. James lifted his hands to grasp either side of Harry’s face, and kissed him. 

Quickly, unceremoniously, they undressed, slipping shirts over heads and fumbling with buttons and zips. Awkwardly Harry pulled James back towards him, stumbling and tugging them both to the floor. James laid himself out over Harry, trying to enfold his whole body, protect it. Harry was already shaking. He buried his face in James’ neck, as he wrapped his legs around him and pulled him as close as he could. His movements were frantic, pulling and grabbing. It hadn’t been like this since they were first together, when guilt and time and constant yearning defined each moment they shared. Harry’s back was flat against the hard floor, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. James faulted. He leant his weight onto one arm, and moved his other hand to Harry’s chin, gently guiding it to face him. “Hey.” He breathed softly. Harry opened his eyes, and James brushed a tear from his cheek. “Hey, slow down. I’m here. We’re here.” James looked into Harry’s eyes, leaning down to kiss him again. Harry kissed back, slower, more cautiously, and James felt everything else fall away. This was it, how it was meant to be. Just the two of them, clinging to each other in the darkness.

Afterwards, they lay side by side on the cold wooden floor. Harry had already retreated, not a fraction of skin touching James’. After a few moments he sat up, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. James reached out to gently touch his back. “I’m certainly glad Romeo didn’t come home during  _ that_.” He attempted to joke. The air in the room felt suddenly thin and taut. Harry didn’t respond, didn’t move. James pushed up onto his elbows. “This all feels a bit like deja vu.” He murmured. He didn’t clarify if he meant their compromising position on the living room floor, or the fact that once again Harry was going to plead guilty to a crime he didn't commit. Was going to be locked behind bars, where James couldn’t reach him, and once again there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening.

Harry stood up, and James watched as he collected his clothes, redressing in silence. He knelt down beside James, and rested a hand on his stomach. James covered it with his own and gave a small squeeze. Harry smiled sadly. “I guess I’ll see you.” He said. His voice was thick. As Harry stood up again, James’ hand fell from his, and he realised which one he had been holding. The left hand. There was no trace of a ring on any finger. James watched as Harry walked out of the flat, closing the door behind him. He collapsed back, letting his tears fall silently down the sides of his face, into his hair and onto the floor.

On the other side of the door Harry leant against the wall, unable to keep his own tears from spilling over. He reached his hand into the pocket of his shorts, his breath catching for a moment in fear before his fingertips brushed against the metal of his ring. He pressed it tightly into his palm, and walked through the dim evening light towards his dad’s flat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the recent feedback; It's helped put the fire back in my jarry-loving belly! They can't take that away from us! :)

“Sami. Call me as soon as you get this. When I’m paying as much as I am paying for you, I expect my messages to be answered promptly.” James let the door to the Teahouse swing shut behind him and strode purposefully toward the counter, phone balanced between his chin and his shoulder as he reached into his pocket for his card. “I want to know what you’re doing with the information I gave to you.” He spat into the little microphone, “and I want to know now. Call me.” He hung up, blowing his cheeks out with a huff.

“You’re still helping with Harry’s case?” James jumped at the voice, turning towards whoever was addressing him. Sadie stood directly behind him in the queue. So absorbed in his phone call, he had been completely oblivious to anyone entering behind him. In fact, he had been oblivious to most things since Harry’s plea hearing, his mind taken up entirely by trying to extend the case, find some loophole or evidence that they had missed. He couldn’t remember having seen her since Isaac was born. She was alone now, and looked completely exhausted, her skin pallid and her eyes hidden behind large dark glasses. Single motherhood was surely taking its toll.

“Strictly in a professional capacity.” James said tersely, and turned his back on Sadie as he came to the front of the queue. He ordered an oat milk latte, acutely aware of Sadie’s gaze boring into the back of his head. Reluctantly, he turned back. “Was there something you wanted?” He asked.

“Flat white.” Sadie said, flashing a smile, “Please.” James took a deep breath, attempting to maintain his composure. “And a flat white, please.” He repeated to the barista. Once the drinks had been made, James repositioned his briefcase and phone into one hand and carried his coffee across the cafe. Sadie followed behind him.

“So how is he?” Sadie asked keenly. James didn’t answer her, sitting down at the smallest table he could find. Sadie sat opposite him regardless. “He’s not letting you see him either, then?”

“No.” James replied quietly. “No, he’s not.”

“Then why are you still involved? I thought he had a new lawyer.”

“He does.” Sadie continued to look at James expectantly, and he considered his words for a moment. What could he say? He couldn’t explain Harry and himself to anyone on the outside of it. He was sure that no one would understand. Understand what they had been through, or the things that each of them had done. How those experiences had bonded them beyond the simple romantic love or lust that he had felt before. He had made mistakes, huge mistakes, but everything he had done had been for Harry, to keep Harry with him. He couldn’t explain all of that, so he simply said “Things between Harry and myself are complicated.”

“You can say that again.” Sadie leaned in towards him, pulling her glasses off and pushing them into her curly hair. James noticed again how tired she looked. “But after everything that happened… I mean, Harry  _ chose _ to plead guilty. And you’re not together anymore.”

“No, but… It’s not that simple.” Sadie nodded and took a long sip of her coffee, leaving space for James to continue. He sighed again, his brow furrowing. “Not that it’s any of your business.” He began, “But I’ve known Harry for a long time now, and I… I’ve loved him for almost as long. I helped him before we were together, and I’ll continue to help him now that we’re no longer together. That won’t change. Even if he wants nothing more to do with me.” James trailed off, his voice growing quiet. When he finally looked up, Sadie was staring at him.

“Wow.” She said. “I wouldn’t have expected that. Not with the way people ‘round here talk about you.”

“Yes, well, don’t tell anyone. Wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea.” James cleared his throat, sitting up slightly straighter, and shook his head. “Anyway, I wouldn’t expect you to understand any of it. Saddled with a sprog by your incarcerated, gay ex-boyfriend before your 21st birthday? And you think I’ve got baggage?” James tried to stop the smirk that pulled on the edge of his lips, and Sadie laughed. “Speaking of, where is … he?”

“ _ Isaac  _ is a home with his Grandad. I’ve been sent out on a mission.” Sadie pursed her lips as though holding something in, and James gave her a quizzical look. “It’s  _ complicated _ .” James raised an eyebrow. “Alright, but you asked for it. Turns out Harry isn’t Tony and Diane’s only kid in prison.”

“Finn.”

“You know him?” Sadie frowned.

“We’ve been… acquainted.” James certainly didn’t want to go into the details of their previous meetings with Sadie, not here.

“Well, he’s not in prison anymore, or he won’t be for long. He’s being released, and they need our, well, Harry’s room for him.” Sadie sighed, pulling her hair into a pile on top of her head, twisting it into place with the scrunchie on her wrist. “So I've gotta find somewhere else to live, which is not easy when you’re 20, no job, and a child by your incarcirated, gay ex-boyfriend.” She picked up her mug, taking a final gulp of the lukewarm liquid within, and got up. “Anyway, I’d better get on. Thanks for the coffee.” Sadie put her sunglasses back over her tired eyes, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” James called after her, standing himself. She looked back. “Maybe I can help you. Just temporarily.” James didn’t know why he felt so nervous, why his stomach seemed to be collapsing in on itself. His mouth was dry, moving of its own accord before he could completely think any of this through “I have a spare room. It’s not big, but it’s free. I’m sure it’d do for the short term.”

“What, we stay with you?” Sadie asked, the ghost of suspicion on her face.

“It’s my fault that Harry’s not here.” James continued, unsure which of them he was trying to convince. “This wouldn’t be happening if he was. So come and stay, just until you find somewhere else.”

Sadie looked at him for what felt like an age, and then she smiled. It was cautious, but it was there. “Okay… I guess I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

“I’ll go and tell Tony then.” Sadie began to leave again, but soon turned back to James. She still looked completely unsure. “Thanks, James.” She said gently.

James nodded curtly and watched her leave, frozen in place. He wasn’t at all sure that he hadn’t just made a huge mistake

James sat at the dining table, laptop in front of him as he flipped through what felt like the hundreth file that afternoon alone. As he rubbed his fingers against his temples, trying to stave off the inevitable headache, the door opened and Marnie drifted in, carrying shopping bags and humming to herself. She started when she saw James sitting there.

“Oh, darling, you frightened me. I thought you would still be at work.”

“I decided to work from home, Mother. Something came…”

Before he could finish his sentence Sadie bustled into the room, flustered and red with a screwdriver in one hand. “James, I really need help putting the crib back together.”

James didn’t look up. “That’s not really my forte. Wait until Romeo is home. He’ll help you.”

Sadie nodded, and picked up a large laundry bag from beside the doorway. She flicked her long, curly hair and left the way she had come, footsteps drumming up the stairs.

Marnie crossed her arms and looked towards her son. “James…?”

“Oh yes, before I forget, Sadie and Isaac are coming to stay for a bit. Coffee?” James closed the laptop and stood up, making his way nonchalantly to the kitchen. 

“Do you really think that’s the best idea, my darling? Since Harry’s hearing you haven’t exactly been...” Marnie paused, gesticulating with her hands as she searched for the right words. “All you seem to do is work.” She finished softly, “And drink. Do you really think you’ll be able to cope having a baby in the house as well?  _ His  _ baby?” She slowly took a few steps forward, reaching out and teasing James’ fingers from the cafetière. As she held his hand in hers, her thumb rubbed gently over the ring on his finger. “You haven’t even spoken about what happened between the two of you.”

“You know what happened.” James replied, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “Harry decided that he would rather be in prison than be with me.”

“Well, I don’t believe that’s all there is to it.” Marnie moved her head to try to catch his eye, but James shook his arm away from her and turned back to the kettle. He refused to do this with her. “So it’s over then? Is that why you’re spending every spare moment on the phone to Sami Maalik, trawling through his case? Why his ex-girlfriend and his  _ child _ are unpacking in your spare room right now?” James left kettle unfilled and walked from the room, as Marnie called after him “James, please, don’t shut me out…”

James sat down on the side of his bed. Was Marnie right? Could he cope with having a bit of Harry living in his house? He slid open the draw of his bedside table and looked down at the items inside, things of Harry’s he had held onto when Tony had collected his belongings. A dark pink polo shirt carefully folded, a bottle of his shampoo, and a picture in a small gold frame. It had been taken on their only holiday together, Harry completely unaware he was being photographed. He sat outside a cafe in a large stone square, sun beating down and a beer in his hand. And that smile. James ran his fingertips across the surface of the photo, then closed the draw. Standing up, he straightened his suit and took a deep breath, readying himself to face the women waiting outside.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only short, soz! :)

Harry winced as he heard the familiar creaking of the opening door. The sound shot through his head, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. Every time a door opened here it was just the prologue to it closing. Every visit a goodbye in waiting.

Harry followed his fellow inmates into the unwelcoming room and glanced around the tables. He had expected to see his lawyer waiting there, ready to attempt to convince him that there was still some hope. But instead of Sami, Harry saw James and Sadie sitting close and talking quietly. Sadie fiddled with a small piece of paper in her hand, anxiety exuding from her whole body. James, on the other hand, looked completely at ease as he leant back in his chair, his ankles crossed and his face stern. Harry supposed he had been in this situation many times before, though he felt a little stab at how unperturbed he seemed to be at visiting his husband in prison.

They stopped whispering as Harry approached. He sat on the hard plastic chair, the table creating a barrier between them. “I told Sami I didn’t wanna see you.” He said cooly, directing his words to James.

“Yes, I know. Luckily for us your lawyer is as spineless as he ever was, and still no match for me.” James leant forwards and rubbed his hands together roughly, a tiny tell. This was harder for him than he was letting on, Harry was sure of it. “He is working hard though.” He added, “We’ve got a lead on…”

Harry didn’t let him finish. He didn’t want to hear leads, he didn’t want to hear hope. He didn’t want James to make this harder. “Why did you bring her?” He asked instead, inclining his head towards Sadie.

Sadie scoffed. “He brought  _ her _ because  _ she _ wanted to see if you were still alive. And  _ she _ thought you might want to see this. I guess  _ she _ was mistaken.” Sadie lay the piece of paper she had been fidgeting with face up on the table. A photograph of Isaac. He lay on a small blanket on a wooden floor, wearing a little pair of blue dungarees and smiling. Really smiling, lips peeled back to show off his toothless pink gums. Harry felt an itch in his fingertips, but he didn’t pick it up. His sight began to blur and his eyes stung as he willed himself not to blink. He didn’t want to cry, not here. He could still feel James eyes’ on him, steady and intent.

“Sadie, why don’t you go and get Harry a chocolate bar.” James said, not looking away. “Here, get yourself something too.” He handed her a note from his pocket. Sadie sighed, but Harry heard the scrape of chair legs across the hard floor and footsteps as she walked back towards the bars. James continued to study Harry’s face, and he kept his eyes lowered, his cheeks warm under the scrutiny.

“You don’t look so bad considering. How are things?” James was trying to keep his voice measured but Harry knew him too well. He could hear the little lift at the end of his words, the concern he tried too hard to conceal. Harry did not look good, he knew that. He was tired. More than tired, he was bone-achingly exhausted. Sleep was hard to come by here, and his appetite had all but disappeared. Being back, he was finding it increasingly hard to separate the past from the present, to keep hold of the truths he so wanted to believe. He hadn’t left Grace, but he’d left Amy. He had all but killed Ryan. The longer he was here, the more it came back to him. The things he had done, that darkness inside. He had thought for a while that he’d escaped it, found a light, another chance. In James he had someone who truly loved him, all of him and everything that he’d done. But he hadn’t really. He hadn’t trusted Harry. He had betrayed him, and now Harry was back again. Back in the darkness. At least he had been safe here so far, his worst enemy his own mind.

James frowned as Harry failed to answer his question. “Is everything… okay?”

“Yeah, you know, just keep my head down, try not to get noticed.” Harry looked at his hands, flat on the table in front of him.

“I think it’d be impossible for anyone not to notice you.” James’ own hands mirrored Harry’s, laying themselves upon the table, still clasped together. He shook his head gently. “Harry, we really are onto something. If you were to ask Sadie…”

“No.” Harry said it a little too loudly. Several heads turned to look at them. Harry shifted in his chair. “Don’t.” He said more quietly.

“Harry...” James whispered, and it sounded for all the world like a plea.

They stared at each other, and Harry found the air suddenly thin in his lungs. His fingers stretched out almost involuntarily, inching across the table. With James here in front of him it was impossible to ignore the pull. He could feel the distance between his own fingers and James’, could almost count the millimeters of air dividing them, keeping them apart. As he made up his mind to reach out, to touch, the moment was suddenly gone. Sadie plonked back down on the chair next to James, and his hand hastily drew back. 

“Here.” Sadie placed a chocolate bar in front of Harry.

“No ridiculous little phone this time, I’m afraid.” James added. He offered Harry a small smile, which he shyly returned. Sadie looked between them, confused, and then her gaze settled on Harry and she frowned. But as she opened her mouth to speak a guard at the back of the hall loudly announced time on visitation.

James got up first, Harry and Sadie following his lead. There they stood, all three of them in silence for a moment. Noone seemed sure how to end the encounter. Perhaps none of them wanted to end it at all.

“Look,” Harry broke the stalemate first. “I do appreciate what you’ve done. But leave it, yeah? This is probably how it was meant to be after, you know… everything I’ve done.” He looked between the faces before him, each so familiar but now so distant. The urge to wrap his arms around James, as he’d done so many times before, was overwhelming. To push his face into his neck, his nose into his skin and breath in the smell that could only be James. Instead, he picked up the photograph from the table and put both hands in his pockets. “Bye.” He muttered, and trudged back towards the door before anymore could be said.


	7. Chapter 7

James entered the kitchen, keeping his head down to avoid engaging with the chaos that spread out before him. How had his home, his own sanctuary, become this? Isaac wailed in Sadie’s arms, as she jiggled him up and down simultaneously trying to drink a cup of tea. Juliet and Marnie moved around each other, bumping and exclaiming as each prepared their breakfast; Marnie boiling two perfect 4 minute eggs as Juliet poured a nauseating quantity of sugary cereal into one of his chinese porcelain bowls. Romeo perched on the worktop and played some tedious game on his phone, sipping coffee, swinging his legs, and getting in everyone’s way. James would have to skip the french press this morning and get his caffeine fix on the way to his appointment. Rather that than face this human zoo. As he walked directly to the door, reaching to unhook his coat from the hanger, Sadie called after him.

“James, wait, are you going out?”

Turning to face her, James nodded. “I assume that’s allowed.” He said dryly. In spite of letting her stay under his roof, James had never quite moved past his initial hostility towards the girl. She remained Harry’s ex, his female ex at that. As much as he wished it didn’t, that fact continued to bother him.

“I thought you weren’t working today.” She said, sweeping her hair out of her face with the hand not holding Isaac on her hip.

“I’m not, but I have other commitments.” James glanced down to his watch. If he was going to get a coffee before his appointment, he really did need to leave soon.

“Oh. I just… I thought you might look after Isaac today? There’s something I need to do.” Sadie paused, then hurriedly added, “It’s about a flat for us.”

James looked at Sadie, slightly bewildered. He had never looked after Isaac alone, what made her believe he would be willing to today? What made her believe that he would be able to at all? He glanced at the baby, who stared back with those round, blue eyes. “No.” He said brusquely, “I can’t. I’m busy.”

Sadie sighed, and turned to the others, as they continued to dance around each other in the kitchen. “Marnie?” She asked hopefully.

“Oh, my darling, I’m afraid I’ve got an appointment with my personal shopper today. It’s very important. You understand.”

“School.” Juliet said with a sarcastic smile before Sadie could even ask. She spooned some more cereal into her mouth, a dribble of milk escaping down her chin.

James turned his back on them, leaving just as it became apparent that Romeo had no plans for the day and that no amount of discussion would save him.

It was only a few hours before James returned to the flat. He was hoping to find it empty. He needed time alone to get his head around the information he had been given that morning. He had spent it in a cafe away from the village, in the company of a man named Neil. A private investigator with whom he had worked many times before, and who he trusted far more than the police force he so often found himself up against. Neil had been trailing Liam Donovan for several weeks now, and James had been eager for an update on his progress. Their friend Mr Donovan, he had shared, was spending a lot of his time skulking around none other than the local landlady, Mercedes McQueen, and coincidentally there seemed to be missing CCTV footage from the Dog carpark on the night in question. James needed concrete evidence that someone else had taken Harry’s car in order to discount his plea, and the absent video could provide just that. James continued to run through what their next steps might be in his head as he opened the door. As he did, he saw that the flat was not empty as he had hoped. He paused, his key still in the lock. Sadie stood at the table with an overfilled bag at her feet, writing a note in a quick, cramped scrawl. She looked up at James.

“What are you doing?” James said slowly, removing the key from the lock.

“I…” Sadie was clearly flustered, searching for words.

“You’re leaving?”

Sadie stood up straight. “Yeah.” She said. She tried to appear sure and steady, but her voice wavered. Once again she looked extremely tired and very, very young. James shut the door.

“Why?”

Sadie placed the pen on the table, and shrugged her shoulders. “Seeing Harry.” She said quietly. “Seeing him in there, it just… it made me realise what I’d done.”

“You knew he would go to prison. What did you think it would be like for him?” James spat. He dropped his briefcase on the floor, heading straight into the kitchen.

“I know.” Sadie replied, a hint of a plea in her voice. “I just… I didn’t think...”

“No you didn’t.” James interrupted, clenching his fist by his side, desperate to keep his composure. “Now he’s off playing the martyr, you’re leaving and I’m the only one actually trying to get him out of there!” James banged his hand against the sideboard and Sadie flinched. She didn’t meet his eye when she spoke again.

“I went to the police. That’s where I was today. I told them everything.” A tear escaped down one of Sadie’s cheeks. “I told them I met Harry that night. Told them about the blackmail, about why Harry pleaded guilty. You know, to protect us.” Several more tears slid down her face, and Sadie wiped them away with her palms. “But now Liam is gonna come after me, isn’t he? He’s said he would. So I’ve got to go.”

James turned and walked to the fridge, opening it and taking out a bottle of champagne. He didn’t really want it, but he had to do something. He couldn’t look at Sadie. “What about Isaac?” He asked as he turned back, twisting the wire at the top of the neck again and again.

“I didn’t want to be a mum.” Sadie whispered. “I love Isaac, I love him so much, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for it. Not right now at least…” Sadie looked back down at the half written note on the table and smiled ruefully. “This way we’re both safe. I know Harry will be the best dad to our little boy when he gets out. I mean, he went to prison for him, didn't he?”

“It won’t be that easy.” James said quietly, putting down the uncorked bottle. “Whatever the reason, Harry pleaded guilty. He's admitted it.” James swallowed. “If he doesn’t get out… Isaac will be left without his mum or his dad.”

“He won’t be.” Sadie looked him dead in the face then, and her expression finally cleared. “Right or wrong, you’d do anything for Harry, that much is obvious. You’ll get him out. And until you do…” Sadie paused, as though reluctant to say the next part, but she held his gaze. “Until then, Isaac will be safe with you.”

James blinked. “No.” He said, “No, I can’t look after him…”

“You can.” Sadie picked up her bag and walked around the counter to stand next to James. Lifting onto her toes, she gently kissed his cheek. Then she walked toward the door. Before she opened it, she turned back. “Tell him I did this for him?” Her voice was choked but nevertheless she opened the door, turned to look at James one more time, and left.


	8. Chapter 8

The flat was dark and still as James let himself in carefully, trying not to disturb the quiet. It was late, although exactly how late he couldn’t say. He’d certainly spent a long time at the Loft, and drank far more than he had intended. His objective had been to get into Liam Donovan’s good graces, and perhaps overhear something that could help Harry. Donovan, however, was possibly not as stupid as he looked. He seemed to take an extra interest in James that night, keeping his champagne topped up and making innocuous and opaque comments that James was totally unable to read. And now James’ head span, as he carefully stumbled to the kitchen and took a glass balancing on the draining board, turning the tap and filling it to the brim. As he brought the gloriously cold water to his lips, James’ thoughts turned to the necessity of a better plan. He would need his wits about him to catch out Donovan and his accomplice. Because he was sure, as he had watched their interactions from a distance this past week, that Mercedes Mcqueen had something to do with this. And he was going to find out what.

As James leant against the counter to steady himself, he heard a noise from the living room. He only knew one person who could convey such disapproval in a simple clearing their throat. He turned to see his mother sitting on the sofa in her silk dressing gown, no make-up on her face and staring sternly at him.

“Mother.” He said, squinting his eyes to keep her in focus while simultaneously attempting to hide just how drunk he was. “Not waiting up for me I hope.”

Marnie pursed her lips and sniffed. “You’re drunk. Where have you been?”

“I’m not drunk.” James lied, standing a little straighter. “I’ve been working. On Harry’s case. I’ve been chasing a lead.”

“You mean you’ve been hanging around Liam Donovan hoping that he’ll slip up, while I’ve been here looking after Isaac again.” Marnie stood, and James was surprised by her anger. She looked ready for battle, although she kept her voice hushed. “You’ve completely avoided that child and your responsibilities to him since Sadie left.”

“I don’t have any responsibilities towards him.” James spat back through gritted teeth. “He is  _ not  _ my child.”

“Maybe not, but Sadie left him in your care. Not mine, not Romeo’s,  _ yours _ .”

“She also told me to get Harry out, and that is what I’m trying to do!” James leant against the counter again, his head dropping forwards as he closed his eyes. “That’s my priority,  _ that’s  _ my responsibility.” His voice was much softer now, vexation falling away as he thought of Harry. “Once Harry is out,” He whispered, “he’ll take Isaac and neither one will be in our lives anymore.”

Marnie sighed, and walked around the sofa to her son. She rested her hand on his cheek, gently guiding his head up to look at her. “You really believe that it’s over?”

“I know it is.”

“James.” Marnie’s voice was firm. “Take care of Isaac. Bond with him. That is what’s important right now. The rest will come.” With that, she patted his cheek and turned to leave. As she did, she picked up the monitor that sat on the table, brandishing it to ensure he saw. “I’m going to bed.” She said, and pointedly replaced it in the same spot.

Once she was gone, James moved into the living area and dropped onto the sofa with a groan. He toed off each shoe in turn and lay his head back, trying to put his mother’s words from his mind. As so often happened, she was hard to ignore. Perhaps he did need to do more for Isaac, but he didn’t know how. As if on cue, the monitor in front of him emitted a few quiet grumbling before a high pitched cry split the hush of the night. Here goes, James thought.

He made his way slowly to the spare room. Or rather, he supposed, Isaac’s room. As he opened the door, the child’s wails became even more piercing. James took a deep breath, closing the door behind him. “Just you and me.” He murmured. He picked Isaac up, careful to support his head, and looked down into his tiny features growing more scarlet by the second. James was surprised to feel the prick of tears behind his own eyes. He held the baby closer to his chest. “Shhhhhh.” He said, rocking him gently. “Shhhh, it’s alright.” He felt the tears run down his face and into Isaac’s sparse hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He repeated over and over. This was brand new territory, and James was terrified.

Harry lay on his back on the hard mattress listening to his cellmate snore on the bunk above. The small square window in the door let in a stream of white light from the corridor, and he could hear the steady thud of the guard’s boots as he made his way from his office to the coffee machine and back again. Harry turned over. It was impossible to sleep here, no matter how exhausted he was. After a few more moments of scrunching his eyelids tightly together, he gave in and sat up. Swinging his legs over the side, he reached under his bunk and felt around until his fingers met the soft leather cover of his journal. He pulled it out, and quietly moved onto the floor and into the small section where the light directly hit it. He leant against the wall. It was cold and he shivered when the back of his bare arms touched it. He opened the book, finding the page he wanted first time thanks to the photograph slotted into it. The picture Sadie had brought him of Isaac. It was moments like this that he needed it most. Lying wide awake in the dead of night knowing what the morning would bring, what each morning would bring for the next five years. That was when he needed to look at this picture of his bright smiling boy and remember why he was here.

He hadn’t seen Sadie since James had brought her in, but then he had told them not to come again. He had asked his dad a couple of times how she and Isaac were doing but he seemed reluctant to talk about it, swiftly moving the conversation on. He supposed Tony didn’t want to upset him with what he was missing out on. But Harry had this picture, and he often tried to imagine what Isaac would be doing at any particular moment. He would probably be asleep now, or maybe grizzling and waking up the whole house. There would be indignation until whoever went to check on him saw that gorgeous face. No one could be angry at that face. Harry smiled to himself and lay back down, pressing the picture to his chest. His mind flicked through his family; Isaac, Tony, Ant, Dee Dee. They were all out there sleeping, warm and safe. He didn’t let his thoughts stray beyond that. Of course there was someone else pushing at the edges of his mind, but he couldn’t think about him. It was still too raw. So he resolutely kept James out of his head.

At least, that was the plan. But as he closed his eyes again there was only one face behind them, and Harry had to give in.


	9. Chapter 9

It was a bright day, just warm enough not to need a jacket. It was probably the last of the year, as autumn fast approached. The sky was a light azure, and James squinted against the sunlight as he surveyed the entrance of Hollyoaks Prison. He needed to see this with his own eyes, to witness Harry walk across the threshold and back into the world. Only then would he know that he had done enough, that he had made up for at least some of his mistakes. And maybe then he would be able to move on.

It hadn’t been easy, although somehow things had fallen into place rather quickly. Mercedes McQueen had been the weak link in the end. He had known she would be. James had spent weeks following leads, finding anyone who had been near the Dog on the night that Grace was hit. He’d had to part ways with rather a lot of money, but was able to find several witnesses who placed Mercedes and Liam together in the days leading up to it. After that it came down to his superior bluffing skills. There was a reason he was the number one criminal lawyer, after all. The simple fact of the missing CCTV proved enough. Paying a visit to Mercedes at closing time, when she was tired and at least one drink down, James merely had to allude to the idea that Liam had given him the tape. Whatever was between the two of them, trust clearly had no part in it. Mercedes believed only too readily that Liam had turned against her. That he had come to James to say that she was driving the car, and that he was willing to swear it in court. Mercedes’ panicked confessions spilled from her with little prompting, and James almost felt sorry for her, until he remembered Harry alone in a cold cell. And Mercedes underestimated James, she always had. As she pleaded for her family, James made all the right noises while recording the whole thing on his phone. He promised to help her, for them to take down Liam together, and then he took her confession directly to the police station. Sadie’s revised statement about what had happened that night and afterwards. The CCTV of Mercedes and Liam getting into Harry’s car and returning it damaged only hours later (conveniently discovered in the Loft’s safe during a subsequent police search). The fact that Donovan had owned up to paying Sadie in front of not just James, but his entire family. It was enough to charge them both, one with causing injury by dangerous driving, the other with perverting the course of justice. And Harry was free.

James stood up a little straighter now, as the heavy double doors opened and Harry emerged. He blinked in the bright daylight, and then he saw James standing a few feet in front of him. James tried to smile. “Hi.” He whispered, not sure that Harry could hear him across the distance. Harry took a few steps forward and James pushed his hands into his pockets, not sure what else to do with them.

“Hi.” Harry said. “You’re here.”

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t run into any trouble. That everything went smoothly for you coming out.”

Harry held his arms out, as though inviting James to look at him. “I’m out.” His hands dropped heavily back to his sides.

“I can see.” James tried to keep the emotion from his voice. “I’m glad.”

Harry shuffled his feet, the toes of his trainers scuffing against the tarmac. “Thanks.” He finally said. “You know, for…”

“You’re welcome.” James interrupted. “It was the least I could do.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, and shifted again uncomfortably. “Listen, my dad’s waiting with the car round the corner, so I should…”

“Of course.” James said quickly. If he was honest, he couldn’t stand for this to drag on much longer. He had no idea how to act now that Harry was out. He didn’t know what was between them now, although he did know that everything had changed. Before Harry could get too far, James caught himself and added, “Come and collect Isaac whenever. We’ll be in for the rest of the day.”

Harry’s head snapped back to James, confusion clouding his features. “What?”

“Isaac.” James repeated, “He’s been staying with me since Sadie left.” Harry continued to stare at him blankly. “You didn’t know?”

“No. Dad didn’t… he said Sadie had gone away for a bit, but he didn’t say anything about… _ you’ve _ been looking after him.”

“Yes.” James tried not to sound defensive. Was it really so unbelievable? “Sadie came to stay with us about a month ago. It was complicated, but she needed somewhere and it seemed to make sense at the time. And when she left…” James’ words failed at Harry’s bewildered look. “I’m sorry if I overstepped the mark, but it seemed the right thing to do.”

Harry nodded slowly. “No. I mean, thanks for looking after him. I just… I didn’t expect it.”

“Honestly, neither did I.” James tried to smile but his mouth refused to comply, instead twisting into a sort of grimace.

“I really should go meet Dad, he’ll be worried.” Harry lifted his hand as though to place it on James’ arm, but he must have thought better of it, changing course into an awkward wave as he disappeared around the corner of the building.

By the time the Hutchinsons came to collect him, Isaac was fast asleep. He’d had a cold for the best part of a week, and James had been finding it difficult to get him to settle. He had spent the last few nights in and out of his bedroom, rocking him gently and often falling asleep himself in the armchair next to his cot. James hadn’t been around a baby for any meaningful period of time since Alfie was born, and he was surprised at how truly well evolved they were to pull on one’s heartstrings. The ear splitting cries that produced pure panic, those big blue eyes that looked up at him just begging for comfort, the warmth of the little body so vulnerable against his own. Yes, they had it all worked out and at some point, James wasn’t sure when, he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. And now he lay across the sofa with Isaac snuggled into his chest, rising and falling with James’ breath as he himself dozed.

A knock on the door lurched James from his shallow sleep and he carefully maneuvered Isaac into his arms, placing his feet back on the ground and slowly raising himself to stand. Trying his best not to wake Isaac, he opened the door.

“Hello Ja…” Tony began, his voice booming through the room, but he was silenced with a single glare from James. He glanced down at the sleeping baby stirring slightly in James’ arms. “Sorry.” He whispered sheepishly. James didn’t respond, his focus instead on Harry, who's mouth might as well have been open as he took in the sight before him. James had to admit it must have been a surprise. Mere months ago James had demanded that Harry choose between Isaac and himself. Now here he was cradling the child, bare feet and loosened tie, a blanket covered in spit up thrown over his shoulder and Wagner’s Siegfried Idyll, of all things, playing softly in the background.

“I’m sorry.” James directed his words to Harry. “I know I said we’d be ready, but he hasn’t been sleeping very well and… here, take him.” James awkwardly transferred Isaac into Harry’s arms before he could reply. Harry’s eyes widened and his face softened as he held his son for the first time in weeks, in months, and James felt a lump rise in his throat. “Everything is packed and ready to go, it’s all in his room, sorry, in the spare room, and...” James rushed through the words, stumbling and starting again. “He’s all ready.”

“Thanks, James.” Tony said softly. Harry didn’t tear his gaze from his son.

“It’s fine. I’ll let you get on with it. I’ll be working upstairs, just close the door when you leave.” James left the three Hutchinsons in the doorway, quickly making his way to his bedroom. He closed the door and sat on the side of the bed, head in hands. He didn’t move again until he heard the door slam shut.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter uploaded today, whaaaaaa'?
> 
> Also, this one is really long. Can't seem to find a happy medium!

Harry turned over in bed, trying to find a position that didn’t feel like all of the springs in the thin mattress were digging into him. Despite the onset of autumn, he felt far too hot under his duvet, his body sticky with sweat. After his release, he thought that sleep would return to him, but it seemed to be getting worse. Thoughts spiralled through his mind, twisting themselves into anxiety and regret. He glanced over at the alarm clock; 5am. With a sigh, Harry pushed off the sheets and stood up. There was no point just lying here. As quietly as possible, he took off his pyjama bottoms, and pulled on his running gear. Once he was out in the cool darkness he felt able to breathe again. A fine rain was falling, raising goosebumps on his arms and legs. Harry ran, heading away from the centre of the village. His mind emptied, everything forgotten except for the feeling of air filling and leaving his lungs, the ground soft and malleable under his trainers. He ran and ran, faster and faster, his thoughts quiet at last.

At least an hour later, as the sky began to lighten at the edges, Harry began circling back to his dad’s flat. As he approached Weirside View, sprinting alongside the edge of the pond, he found himself careering almost directly into an obstacle suddenly in his path. James, coffee cup in hand and black umbrella protecting him from the increasing rainfall.

“Watch where you’re… oh, Harry.” James’ tone changed when he realised who had nearly bowled him over, although his eyes remained dark.

“Hey... sorry...” Harry tried to catch his breath. “I didn’t expect… I haven’t seen anyone else out this morning.”

“No, I suppose not.” James shrugged apologetically. “I’ve got an early meeting, I wanted to go through some bits in the office first.”

“Right.” Harry wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I was just running.” He added stupidly. James raised an eyebrow. “Obviously…” Harry muttered, “I’ll just… head back.” He began to move past James, but was stopped by his voice echoing behind him.

“Harry, wait.” Harry turned back. James’ manner was still inscrutable. “I’d been meaning to come by and see you. There’s something I wanted to catch you about.”

Harry’s chest tightened. “Uh… yeah, cool.” He tried to keep his own expression measured. “I’ve got a shift at the Hutch tonight, but maybe you could drop in and we could… talk?”

“Alright. See you tonight.” James nodded curtly, and strode towards his parked car. Harry didn’t wait to see him get in, turning and slowly walking home.

It was well past ten when the last customers exited the Hutch. The young couple, carefree and more than a little tipsy, had lent into each other with eyes for no one else, and Harry hadn’t the heart to ask them to leave. Instead he began the close down around them, scrubbing near black stains from the coffee machine and stacking chairs in the corner. James still hadn’t been by and Harry was beginning to think he wasn’t going to. Despite having been on tenterhooks all evening, jumping each time the door opened, he couldn’t help a slight drop of disappointment in his stomach. When the lovers finally stood and walked arm in arm towards the door, with effusive thanks but less of a tip than Harry had expected, he was ready to throw in the tea towel. He closed the door behind them, and was about to turn the key in the lock when he heard a light tap on the other side of the glass. Turning the handle again, he found James standing in the yellow glow of the street lamps, his shoulders hunched forward and a frown on his brow.

“May I come in?” He asked. Harry stood aside to let him pass. He motioned to the recently vacated table and James took a seat, crossing one leg over the other. He kept his briefcase on his lap, and his fingers fumbled as he unlatched it. He reached inside to retrieve a file. “Annulment papers.” James said flatly, not looking at Harry but instead busying himself by shuffling them onto the table. “I had a friend look over it for me. Bit of a whizz at marital law, so it should all be...” He trailed off, and his hands stilled on the papers. 

Harry nodded. He should say something, he knew, but his throat felt suddenly tight. “Annulment?” was all he managed.

“As you already know, divorce isn’t possible until we’ve endured at least a year of marital bliss.” James cocked his eyebrow, as he continued to scan the files. “But under the circumstances, I think we’ve got a good chance at an annulment.” He still hadn’t looked at Harry. Harry made his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of red and two glasses from behind it before returning to sit opposite James. As he poured the wine, James nodded and muttered “Good idea.” Harry passed one of the glasses to James, watching as he raised it slowly to his lips. For a moment it was quiet between them.

“How’s your family?” Harry finally asked. He needed them to move past this moment, but he was also truly curious. It had been tough not seeing the Nightingales after he had been released. Marnie, Romeo, even Juliet. He’d sort of come to think of them as extended family in the months he’d lived with James. 

“Juliet is getting into trouble at school,” James began, “but she’s not been expelled yet, so we pick our battles.” Harry laughed, and James seemed to relax a little into his chair. “Mother is mother. The light in every room, as I’m sure you remember.” They shared a conspiratorial look, the hint of a smile between them. “And Romeo… well, goodness knows what he does all day now that he is without his gaming partner.” James seemed to stiffen as soon as the words left his mouth, but Harry shook his head and laughed again. “I bet he’s still using your credit card to buy upgrades though.”

“Yes.” James said, and a smile pulled at his lips once more. Harry smiled back, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat stumbled. After a moment, James asked, “And the Hutchinson household?”

“There’s a lot of us in there at the moment, so you know how it is. I mean, it’s a madhouse, ain’t it. We’re bunking in with Ant. Twenty Two and sharing a room with two children. Pretty pathetic, eh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it on your Tinder profile.”

There was another awkward silence, as James looked away once more. Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah, I reckon we’ll have to find somewhere else soon. Dad and Diane have enough on their plates, what with Finn and the kids and everything...”

“Not forgetting the charming Sinead.”

“Right...” Harry shrugged his shoulders. He watched his own fingers as they ran up and down the stem of his glass. “Your place must feel quiet now. Bet you’re well pleased to have Isaac out of there.”

“Something like that.” James didn’t give any more, and silence prevailed again. Why was this so hard? It used to be so easy.

“So… annulment, eh?” Harry reached forward, thumbing the files that lay on the table between them. “Fucking hell.” He muttered, mostly to himself. “Two failed marriages.”

“Well, we can only hope this one will be found void quickly, and then there’s no need to tell anyone that you’re a quarter of the way to Liz Taylor territory.”

Harry let a little laugh puff from his nose, although it wasn’t really funny. He rubbed the bare skin where his wedding ring had been. He wouldn’t tell James, but it was now sitting against his chest on the end of a chain that the high neck of his t-shirt hid from view. One day he would manage to take it off completely, but not yet. “I was so happy that day.” He murmured. “It’s weird, it doesn’t feel real now. Feels like a dream.”

“Yes, I suppose when feelings change it’s hard to remember exactly what one felt before.”

Feelings changed. Was that what had happened? Had James’ feelings changed? Harry looked up into James’ eyes, and he just stared back.

“I still fancy you.” Harry said it to break the tension building between them if nothing else. “If that’s what you mean.” He couldn’t hold back a shy smile.

“It wasn’t.”

“I mean, I always fancied you. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“Is that right?” James sounded genuinely curious for once.

“Well, yeah. I just thought...”

“That the sun shone out of Ste’s backside.” James’ tone wasn’t harsh. There was a mischievous glint in his green eyes. “And that I was… manipulative and evil?”

“Well, the former certainly isn’t true anymore.”

“And the latter?”

“I dunno.” Harry swallowed as James’ eyes continued to bore into his own. “I don’t think so.”

James made a small humming sound, and shook his head. “I’d probably better go. Leave you to finish…” He signalled with his hand around the room. Standing up, James refastened his briefcase, leaving the papers where they lay on the table, and walked back out through the door. Harry stayed where he was and watched him leave. Then he swallowed the remainder of his wine in one go.

James had been in bed for about an hour when he heard a rapid knocking at the door. He tried to ignore it, but that quickly proved impossible. His family were out; Marnie had taken Juliet away as a treat for not having gotten into _ too _ much trouble during her first weeks back at school, and he had no idea where Romeo was. He had found it best not to ask. If he wanted the racket to stop, he’d have to deal with it himself. James got up and made his way to the door. It was probably that young scally looking for Juliet at stupid o’clock again, or else a drunk from the club who had forgotten where they lived. Instead, he was genuinely surprised to find Harry on his doorstep, leaning slightly against the wall. For several moments they simply looked at each other.

And then, “I’m really drunk.” Harry said it without explanation. It was nearly one o'clock now, and James had left him before eleven. From the smell he emitted and the slight wobble in his stance, James could tell he’d had a lot more to drink since then. As he himself had, the empty bottle of Chianti on the coffee table evidence of that.

“Quite.” He said, and turned abruptly. He walked purposefully in the direction of his bedroom and, after a moment of hesitation, heard the door close. He didn’t look back to see if Harry was following.

Once in his room James got into bed, lying on his back and closing his eyes. He heard Harry enter the room only moments behind him, his footsteps cautious and soft. He needn't have been, it was only the two of them, but there was something so still about the night that it seemed to call for such gentleness. James felt the cool air around his bare legs as Harry pulled back to duvet to slide in beside him. The bed sank slightly as he lay down, but James still didn’t open his eyes. He was minutely aware of Harry beside him, the hairs on his arms standing up when he felt him shift ever so slightly. Harry turned onto his side, just as he always had, and let out a small sigh. The air tickled the side of James’ neck. Harry’s hand slipped into his, holding it loosely as he immediately began to drift off. James could hear Harry’s breaths become shallow, the familiar background noise that had accompanied so many nights before. He opened one eye a fraction to glance over at the sleeping face beside him. He always looked so peaceful in sleep, so young. Under the covers, James’ hand felt clammy in Harry’s but he didn’t let go. He closed his eyes again, and let himself follow Harry now and drift away from consciousness.

When Harry woke the next morning, alone in James’ large bed, he felt as though he had slept for days. His body was heavy, his mind pleasantly fogged from the depth of his sleep. He was still dressed in his t-shirt, and could feel his jeans at his feet. He must have kicked them off at some point during the night. Harry could feel a soft throb beginning at the back of his head, and he blinked his eyes against the dryness behind them. After closing up the Hutch, he had remained completely thrown by his conversation with James. He had gone to the Dog, not ready to return home, but it had closed not long after he arrived. Then he had picked up a four-pack of beers in Price Slice, and sat to drink them alone on a bench in the village. The same bench on which he had found James poisoned and passed out, just after he had made up his mind that this was who he would spend his life with. He hadn’t drunk like that, on a bench at night, since he was at boarding school, groping the girls and pretending to like it. And as he became less focussed in his thoughts, less in control of his actions, there was only one place he wanted to be.

Harry stood up, feeling strangely self-conscious and a little embarrassed. He needed to see James, to apologise or at least explain. He made his way carefully to the kitchen, reluctant to come across any of the other residents, but he found it empty. James’ raincoat was draped over the sofa, and his briefcase was sitting by the door. After gulping some cold water directly from the tap Harry walked back upstairs, this time hearing water running in the bathroom. He moved towards the door and opened it a crack. Glancing in, he could see James through the steamy glass of the shower. He gently pushed the door further, unable to stop himself, and on hearing the creek James opened his eyes. Harry took a step towards him.

“Hi.” James said, not a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “Here to join me?” Harry swallowed, and without thinking too much about it pulled his t-shirt over his head. He kept his eyes locked on James’ face behind the stream of water. He tugged off his boxers, and stepped out of them. He saw James’ eyes flick briefly down to his erection, now on full display, and back to his face. For a moment, Harry hated his body for being so obvious, for revealing so easily everything between them that had seemed so hard to say. Then he stepped into the shower, closing his eyes as the water hit.

As he angled his face towards the jet of water gushing down onto them, Harry felt James’ hands slide up his chest. They held onto his neck for a moment, thumbs pressing against his pulse, fingers stroking the thin chain at his nape, and continued until they twisted into his hair. Harry could smell the soap James must have used, the familiar musky scent, and the steam that surrounded them made him dizzy. One of James’ hands left his head, and he shuddered as he felt it graze along his penis. Harry’s eyes opened and he found James staring straight at him, a question sketched on his face. Harry simply closed his eyes again. James’ fingers gripped around him and began to move in slow, measured strokes. Harry bit down on his lip, his breath sharp. He hadn’t been touched like this in months. Of course he had fumbled with himself under blankets in prison, trying to be discreet and picturing James above him, but it wasn’t like this. Nothing compared. Harry let his head fall forward onto James’ shoulder, involuntarily biting down as he came far too soon. The familiar metallic taste ran over his tongue. He propped a hand against the side of the shower, attempting to regain his composure. His head span.

Harry was jolted again when James reached over for a flannel, rubbing his hands and then spreading it over Harry’s chest and down to his crotch. Harry leaned his forehead against James’, their faces inches apart. _ Kiss me. _ He thought. _ Now kiss me _ . But James didn’t. Instead he smiled wistfully and moved away from Harry’s touch. Stepping out of the shower, he took a towel from the rack and wrapped it around his hips. He closed the door behind him as he left. Harry sat down, his mind still blurry, and let the hot water run over him.

It took awhile for Harry to put himself back together. He dried off in the bathroom, the towel soft against his heat reddened skin, and dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Then he steeled his nerves and went back down to the living room. James had left, probably for work, but freshly brewed coffee and a croissant were set out on the breakfast bar. Harry couldn’t help but smile. How like James. He perched on a stool, breaking off a piece of flakey pastry, and looked around the room. Very little had changed, the same ornaments and pictures adorning the polished surfaces. It felt strange to be there and to be alone. A good strange, though. Tranquil and familiar. If he could he would have stayed there all day, but he had another shift at the Hutch. He knew his dad would have questions about where he had been, about why he hadn’t come home and had left Diane to deal with Isaac that morning. He hadn’t dared look at his phone yet.

As Harry stood up his headache began to return with a vengeance, and he drank the black coffee quickly with several heaped sugars. Then he picked up his own jacket and, glancing once more around the room, headed out to the Hutch.


	11. Chapter 11

James returned home just before lunchtime, a morning of tedious meetings and complaining clients all the encouragement he needed to call it day. He was knackered, his head fuzzy and his mind somewhere else completely. Perhaps he could get more paperwork done away from the irritations of his coworkers anyway. He was not surprised, as he entered the flat, to find Romeo sitting not yet dressed on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table and eyes glued to a car racing its way around a track on the television.

“Good afternoon.” James said pointedly. When Romeo simply grunted at him in reply, he added, “Please take your feet off that, it cost more than your phone.”

“How was your morning?” Romeo asked, ignoring both his father’s indignation and instruction.

“Utterly riveting.” James took out a glass and poured himself a finger of whisky. Nothing else had managed to rid him of this hangover today, perhaps the hair of the dog that bit him would do the trick. “I won’t ask how yours had been.” He added wryly, carrying his glass and his briefcase around to the sofa.

“You left these on the table.” Romeo said, holding out a small pile of papers. He didn’t look away from the screen as James took them from his hand, his eyes scanning the small font. Bugger. The annulment documents. James hadn’t registered that Harry still had them when he arrived last night, let alone that he had left them forgotten in the middle of the flat, in full view of anyone walking through. “And I was a bit worse for wear when I came in last night,” Romeo continued, all the while pressing buttons on his controller with his quick easy thumbs, “but I swear I saw a pair of trainers that weren’t either of ours by the door.”

Double bugger. Carefully James returned the sheets to the coffee table. “Romeo...” he began, but his son interrupted him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Romeo pressed down on something and the game paused. He turned his face to James. “About you and Harry.”

“I didn’t tell you because it was... a moment of madness. One that quickly revealed itself to be a mistake.”

Romeo didn’t say anything for a moment, his mouth twisting in thought. James tried not to break his gaze. The boy had the uncanny ability to make James feel that he was looking straight through his carefully constructed walls.

“A mistake?” He said finally. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Look, I don’t know what makes you think that you’re an expert on Harry’s and my relationship, but honestly we’re all better off...”

“You’re not happy.” Romeo said it so matter-of-factly it caught James off guard. His eyes darted away from his son, fixing on the wall behind him, his head shaking slightly. “And I bet Harry isn’t either.” With that Romeo recommenced his game, the conversation over as abruptly as it had begun. James knocked back his drink. 

Harry finished his shift at five. He changed quickly out of his uniform, and called a hasty farewell to his dad in the kitchen as he pulled his jacket tightly around himself. He was desperate to get home, to see Isaac for the first time that day. There was a bite in the late afternoon air, and he shivered as he opened the door onto the street. A blustery wind lifted a flurry of russeted leaves from the ground, skimming their way across his path. Directly across from him Romeo sat at the bus stop, his denim jacket buttoned up against the chill and his nose in a book.

“Alright mate.” Romeo looked up as Harry approached him, shoving his hands deep into the fleece of his coat pockets.

“Alright.” Romeo smiled, genuine and wide. For a moment it looked so like his dad’s. Harry took a seat on the cold plastic beside him.

“What are you reading?”

Keeping a finger between two pages, Romeo closed the book to reveal the front cover to him.  _ The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. _ “The forgotten Bronte.” Romeo explained, “Emily was the wild genius, Charlotte the best seller. Everyone sort of forgets about Anne, but she was proper ahead of her time, you know?”

“Sure.” Harry said, though he really had no idea. Romeo smirked at him, and flicked down the corner of the page, slipping the book into his jacket pocket. “Sorry I haven’t been by to see you all. It’s just been...”

“It’s fine.” Romeo kicked his feet against the tarmac. “I can’t imagine you’ve got a lot of time with the kid and everything. Not even for sleep, by the looks of it.”

“Oi!” Harry gave Romeo a soft nudge with his elbow. “You’re right though. Maybe if it was just me and Isaac, but there’s no room to breathe at my dad’s.”

“Like when we were all in at ours?” Romeo’s eyes crinkled at the memory, that brief time soon after they had each moved in when the flat had felt more like a hostel.

“At least  _ you _ had your own room. Didn’t have to share a single bed with a human beanpole.” Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure if the topic of James was still a safe one between them but Romeo brushed straight past it. 

“Why don’t you move out?”

“I wish we could, but I can’t afford it, can I? The pay at the Hutch only goes so far.” For a moment Harry bit his tongue against the questions he was trying not to ask. Even though Romeo had given him an out, Harry couldn’t help but bring the conversation back to James. “How is your dad?” He finally asked, feeling pretty pitiful as he did.

“Today? Like a bear with a sore head.”

“I know the feeling.” Harry gave a little laugh. 

“It’s nothing new really. He’s a pain in the ass. Misanthropic, biting everyone’s head off, but he’s been like that for months.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah.”

Romeo’s bus pulled around the corner then, and he stood up. Harry followed.

“Here.” Romeo took the book back out of his jacket, and passed it to Harry. “Either you’ll be riveted and nights will go much faster, or it’ll put you straight to sleep.”

“Don’t you wanna finish it?”

“Nah, I’ve read it like 4 times.” He placed a warm hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger, man.”

“I won’t.”

Before Romeo stepped up into the bus, he turned back to Harry. “He’s at home tonight.” He said, narrowing his eyes as he deliberately watched for Harry’s reaction. “On his own. Just in case you wanted to… I dunno, check anything.” With that Romeo hopped onto the bus and the doors closed behind him.

Later that evening, after Harry had helped Diane feed the kids and had bathed and settled Isaac, he went out for another run. He moved fast, feet pounding the pavement in the familiar hope of tiring himself out, of tuning out his thoughts for the night with the rhythm of his footsteps, his heartbeat, his breath. As he passed James’ flat he saw a slither of warm light through the crack in the curtains. Harry hesitated for a moment, his pace slowing. It would be so easy to knock on the door again, and he knew James would let him in. He always let him in. Last night he had made the choice so easily, it had seemed so clear. Harry wished he had that clarity now, but in truth he didn’t know what he wanted. He wasn’t sure what he needed from James, and to go there now… no. Harry shook his head and quickened his pace again. Another lap of the village would have to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Romeo still read books on the show? I love bookworm Romeo!


	12. Chapter 12

James sat with a tupperware of quinoa and chicken open in front of him, scanning a file as he ate. He often ate lunch at his desk, keeping the amount of time that could be misspent on idle chit chat with colleagues to a minimum. The office itself was small, and barely decorated beyond an uninspiring, bargain-basement impressionist painting that the designer had hung on the wall. While other people had pictures of their family, their partner, their _pet_, James preferred to keep his desk free of such sentimental clutter. He didn’t even have a succulent. He was just reaching for another file, a historic case that might help him find a new angle on his current one, when there was a sharp rapping on the door. “Come in.” He called. The door opened, but James didn’t look up.

“What the hell is this?”

James smirked down at his work, despite the voice being full of vexation. He glanced up to see Harry standing over him, frowning rather adorably, and then down to where Harry had tossed something onto the desk. James delayed answering for a moment, as he finished chewing his mouthful and swallowed. “Well that, Harry, would be an envelope stuffed with money. I would have thought you would be familiar with one of those by now.”

“Very funny. It’s from you, right?”

“Yes.” James said simply. He closed the file in front of him, and leant back in his chair. He had left the envelope in question outside the Hutchingson’s door on the way to work that morning, five thousand pounds tucked into it and Harry’s name scrawled across the front.

“I thought we were past you trying to buy me.” Harry said harshly. He was clearly trying to keep control of his voice, but he sounded furious.

“Romeo told me you were struggling to afford your own place. It’s not my fault that your father doesn’t pay his employees a living wage.” Harry rolled his eyes, and James’ own indignation rose. “I was trying to help.”

“It’s not your job to rescue me anymore.”

James stood up then, towering over Harry. He _had_ just been trying to help, and Harry’s lack of gratitude was infuriating. “I suppose it wasn’t my job to help when you were in prison either?” He said coolly, “Both times, in fact. And when you were on the streets? No, you’re right, I should just leave you to your own devices, you do such a great job of looking after yourself.”

Harry didn’t back down. He tipped his chin up, meeting James’ eyes defiantly. James was the first to crack, to look away.

“Look, legally you’re entitled to half of what I earn. This is nothing. Just take it, Harry.” He slid the packet across to him again. Harry placed his hand over James’, pushing it back towards him. “No.” He said clearly.

James sighed. He could be so bloody difficult. “Fine.” He conceded, and opened the draw to drop the envelope into it. He closed it again. “There, gone.”

Harry didn’t move.

“Something else you needed?” James asked.

“It’s not my fault we’re not together anymore, James.”

James sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “I know.”

Harry took the seat opposite. He leant forward, thumb rubbing into palm as he rested his elbows on spread knees. “I… I'm sorry about coming over the other day.” Harry's voice was quieter now, softer. “It… it wasn’t fair.”

“So why did you?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno.”

James continued to watch Harry as he fidgeted in his seat. Something was clearly on his mind, on the tip of his tongue, but James wasn’t going to beg for insight. He still had his pride.

“What happened between us?” Harry finally spoke, still focussed on his wringing hands. “How did we go from the rest of our lives to… this...”

James felt a lump rise in his throat. What could he say? What had happened? Harry had impregnated a woman. Harry had kissed Ste. Harry had lied. He had created cracks in their foundations, and James himself had delivered the final blow, watching them crumble from the force of his jealousy, his mania. From his love, he supposed, and what a curse that was. Love had always been a curse for James; craving it, searching for it, denying it. No matter how he approached it, the outcome was always the same.

James was rescued from having to vocalise any of this by another loud knock. Before he had a chance to answer, the door swung open and a colleague poked her head around. “James, are you almost ready? Mr Wright is waiting in the conference room…” She noticed Harry, and smiled politely in his direction. “Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you were with a client.”

“No, this is my… this is Harry.” Harry raised a hand in greeting. “We’re nearly done here, Emily. I’ll be through in a moment.”

“Alright,” She looked confused, but nodded at them and added, “Don’t be too long, you know how he gets. Nice to meet you, Harry.” As she closed the door behind her, James looked back to Harry, so out of place in the large corporate chair in his pink shirt and jeans.

“Look, Harry, let’s just forget about it.” James said, standing up and tucking the files under his arm. He walked to the door, and held it open as Harry followed. “I promise I’ll leave you alone.” 

Harry hesitated. “I don’t want that.” He said quietly. 

“No?”

“I don’t think so.”

“So... “ 

“Look, can I come over tonight maybe? Just talk.”

James nodded. “Of course.” Harry returned the nod, and left.

By the time Harry came over, James had only just returned from work himself. He quickly changed from his suit into a more comfortable shirt, and cleared the dishes dotted around the room. He poured and drank a dram of scotch, hiding the evidence behind the rest of the crockery in the sink.

When he opened the door Harry stood awkwardly on the other side, fingers clasped around the handle of Isaac’s pram. “Hi.” He said, his tone apologetic. James helped as Harry struggled to push the pram up the front step and through the doorway. When the door was finally closed, they stood facing each other. What now?

“Tea?” James asked. Harry nodded, and James made his way to the kitchen. Harry followed just behind. He grinned as he realised that James had put a Yorkshire tea bag directly into the mug next to his own pot of delicate darjeeling, and James spooned his signature three sugars in. When Harry had lived there he had constantly been trying to refine his tea tastes, sporadically introducing an oolong, lapsang or keemun into the kitchen when he knew that all Harry ever wanted was a strong builders tea, sweet and milky. 

James handed the mug to Harry, who blew on the umber liquid. The steam rose around his face, and James walked to the other side of the kitchen. He opened a draw right at the end and took out the annulment papers, hidden from his family under piles of tax forms. James laid them out on the counter, and looked up at Harry.

“You left these here.” He began. “If that’s what you wanted to...”

“No.” Harry interrupted, a frown pulling his eyebrows down. “No, I forgot about them to be honest.” He placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing the patch roughly as he seemed to search for his next words. “I guess I just need to know what happened... before I can, I dunno, move past this.”

“Move on?”

“Maybe.” Harry shifted uncomfortably again, avoiding meeting James’ gaze. “When you... you know, drugged me. I need to know why.”

James nodded, and exhaled. He had known that this moment would come eventually, especially since Harry had been out of prison. How to explain it, how to make Harry understand? He couldn’t. His actions had been abhorrent, his excuses quickly rendered void. But he had to say something.

“It might be best if you don’t look at me when I say this.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but turned around. James could feel sweat seeping from the pores in his palms, and he wiped them on his trousers before he began.

“I... I kept seeing these visions. Hallucinations, I suppose. You and Ste, together”. He didn’t go into any more detail. Harry was smart enough to know what he meant, and his own memories were close enough to the surface already. “I was so convinced something was happening between you.”

Harry span around again, in spite of James’ request. “I told you...” 

“You told me a lot of things, Harry.” He didn’t mean for his words to come out so harsh, but Harry’s tone had put his defences up. “You told me you were at your dad’s and you were with Ste. You told me you were with Romeo and you were meeting Sadie.”

“That was because I didn’t want to... I thought you’d leave me if..”

“And I thought the same.” James snapped. He took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. “It wasn’t your fault.” He continued, more controlled now. “I said that I did it because I thought it was best for you, but that wasn’t true. I did it for myself.” The way his mind had constantly betrayed him, told him exactly what he least wanted to hear. He couldn’t move past it, couldn’t ignore it, but he couldn’t lose Harry either. That hadn’t been an option. So he did what he had learned to do from the best, the model of love held up before him for his whole life. He found a way to _make_ him stay. “I didn’t want you to leave me.” James said bitterly, “It was purely selfish. Mac would be proud.”

Harry’s brow furrowed at that. “James, you’ve never been selfish with me. Never.”

“I never had anything to lose before.” James stiffened as he said the words. That was what it came down to, he supposed, and at once it seemed all too easy to explain. “Suddenly I had everything to lose. I could feel you slipping away and I…”

“I wasn’t.” Harry whispered. “I’d never loved anyone like that before.”

“What about Ste?”

Harry stifled a groan. “I was a kid when I met Ste. I thought it was... I thought I knew what I wanted, but the more I realised who _I_ was the more it just didn’t make sense. Nah, it was never like this is.”

The grammatical structure of Harry’s sentence didn’t escape James. Present tense. This is. “I know,” he replied haltingly, “I mean, I think that I know. I believed I was in love before but with Kyle, even with John-Paul there was that niggle, that little what if.”

“What if...?”

“What if you weren't with Ste. What if I had met you first.” Harry took a step towards James. “Harry…”

“The other day I... I wanted you to kiss me. I always want you to kiss me.” Harry had such an easy way with words. Why had James found it so difficult to believe them? Why had he always struggled to do the same? “I know I shouldn’t.” Harry continued, and he moved closer still, looking at James with those wide eyes. “James, what do you want?”

James closed his eyes. He could feel Harry’s breath against his lips, his body pressing closer even through the air that divided them. Suddenly, across the room Isaac began to stir.

Harry hurried over to the pram, and scooped his son out. “For god’s sake,” He mumbled, kissing the top of Isaac’s head even as he did so. “I swear he hasn’t been sleeping for more than like 20 minutes at a time.” Isaac’s mewling quickly grew into a sharp wail as Harry bounced him from side to side. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s not you. He’s a baby, I’ve been led to believe that crying is simply what they do.”

“It feels like it’s me.” Harry admitted quietly, “It's weird. The first couple of months of his life we barely met. I mean, you’ve probably spent more time with him than I have.”

“May I…?” James asked, coming close again but not looking directly at Harry. Harry shrugged, nothing to lose. He carefully passed Isaac into James’ arms. James gave him a gentle rock. A tight smile pressed the sides of his mouth when he noticed Harry staring at him. “Sorry, I just… he used to like a slower motion.” Isaac turned his face towards James, his nose touching the soft cotton of his shirt and began to quieten down. “Here.” James gently handed him back to Harry, who continued the slow, rhythmic rocks. They both watched as Isaac gave a little yawn, his eyes drooping shut. Soon he was asleep. Harry exhaled, then grinned at James. Cautiously, he placed Isaac back in the pram and tucked his blanket around his small body. 

“Who’d have thought it, eh; James Nightingale, the Baby Whisperer.”

James smiled self-consciously. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” He muttered. “So...”

“So.” Harry repeated, hands clasped behind his back. He gently gnawed at the small flap of skin peeling from his lower lip.

James looked at Harry, into his eyes. He was lost again, he knew it. The effect Harry had just by being close to him, it was undeniable. He gathered his courage. “You.” James murmured, lifting his hand to Harry’s cheek.

Harry twitched at the unexpected touch, his breath catching. “Huh?” His voice came out hoarse, and he cleaned his throat.

“You asked what I want, Harry. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

James kissed Harry softly, his lips pressed tightly together. After a moment, he felt Harry’s mouth begin to move, to open, his tongue gently separating James’ lips. James trembled as it skimmed across his own. Harry’s fingers closed around James’ wrists, keeping them in place, as he pushed into him. After a moment, his grip loosened slightly, and James took the opportunity to extract his hands, running them down Harry’s chest as he undid the small buttons of his shirt. Pushing it back, his palms found the soft skin of Harry’s waist, the taut muscles underneath, and pulled in closer.

Isaac cried out again.

“Shit.” Harry stumbled backwards, almost losing his balance as he shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders, “Shit.” He raced across the room, looking down at his son who was wailing once more. “I told you, didn’t I?”

James ran his hands over his face, trying to gain back some control. “Well, he certainly knows how to ruin a moment. You can tell he’s Sadie’s son.”

Harry laughed. “Look, I’ll take him home, Dad’ll be in by now.” He opened the door, and turned the pram towards it, then looked back at James. “Just don’t go anywhere, okay?” He said.

“Harry, where would I go?” James asked, and Harry smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put 15 chapters. There might be 15 chapters. Who knows, it might change.

James lay on his side, eyes trained on the expanse of blank wall ahead of him. The only light crept in through a narrow gap in the curtains. Occasional passing beams cast soft shadows across the room, the low rumble of a car rising briefly. Harry’s arms were wrapped tightly around him, their knees slotted together. James could feel his steady breath warm against his bare shoulder. Harry’s right hand rested against his chest as it rose and fell. He put his own hand on top of it, pushing the smooth palm against his skin, against the heavy pounding of his heart. He tried to remember the words of a poem he had once read, one of Neruda’s sonnets. What was it? _ Your hand so close _ … or _ So close against my chest… _ He couldn’t quite catch the words. _ Your hand is my hand _. He was sure that was in it, and he pressed harder still.

Harry had been true to his word and, not an hour after taking Isaac home, had knocked on the door once more. They had managed to slip into James’ bedroom before anyone else emerged from theirs to answer it. They didn’t speak this time. Harry had lifted James’ hand and pressed it to his own cheek. When they made love it had been frantic, and over faster than either one hoped. Harry had curled into the sheets after, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy, but sleep eluded James. He lay awake, his mind whirring. A dull ache pulled at his stomach and his heart. He had missed Harry more than he could tell, and even now, with him pressed against his back, he missed him. He missed what they had been. What they could have become. Now all he could see were the mistakes he had made and how he had let him down. Mac, the energy he put into his vendetta against him, while Harry waited patiently, supporting him through every step. His reaction to Sadie, to the pregnancy, how he had pulled Harry in two directions, made their relationship taut and breakable. He had neglected him again, thrown himself into the case to push out his doubts. And of course, Ste. His paranoia. His lack of trust in Harry, in his loyalty and his love, that lead him to betray Harry in the worst way possible. How could Harry lie next to a man capable of such things, how could he stand to touch him. James shrugged Harry’s arm off and sat up, the duvet falling from his torso. He tried to calm his breath as he felt Harry shift next to him, letting out a faint groan. Harry rolled onto his back, eyes blinking open. Adjusting to the darkness of the room, they fell onto James’ hunched silhouette.

“What’s… you okay?” Harry mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m fine.” James replied brusquely. Harry reached out, and the pads of his fingers slid across the small of James’ back. For a moment the room was silent.

“Hey,” Harry whispered, “Lie down with me.”

James inhaled, and lay back. Harry turned onto his side, propping an arm up to support his head. He looked at James’ profile in the dim light, his eyes questioning and kind. After a moment James turned his face to him, their noses inches apart.

“I’m not sure I know how to be happy.” He murmured, “You have such light in you and I... I can’t seem to escape the darkness.” James fingered the duvet at his waist. He swallowed. “You’re better than me, Harry. A better man.”

“Don’t.” Harry shook his head, his hair mussed against the pillows. “I’m not.”

“You are. You’re like a lighthouse in the dark sea.” A warm glow that James had ignored, instead careering them both into the rocks below.

“James, I am _ so _ messed up. I’ve done some awful things, and you know what? I’m not even sorry about half of it. Not if it led me here.” He bit his lip. “You know what I’ve done. You‘re the only one who really does.”

James closed his eyes, his face crumpling into a frown. “I’m not a place for you to keep your darkness locked up.”

“I know that. You’re not. You’re the one who got me out.” Harry placed his hand on James’ chest again. _ So close, _ James thought, _ it’s my hand _ . “James, you’re the _ only _ reason I made it through. I wanna... I wanna help _ you _ through.” James opened his eyes and turned onto his side. His nose skimmed against Harry’s. “I think we can do it.” Harry finished. He leant forwards slightly to kiss him, and James closed his eyes again.

Harry woke before James, for possibly the first time ever. He sat up, rubbing his eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in. James had rolled onto his front during the night, his face squashed against the pillow, his mouth wide open. Harry had to suppress a laugh, but his heart leapt. Who else got to see the great James Nightingale like this? He brushed his hand against the short hair at the back of his head, then reached for his phone. It wasn’t late, but it wasn’t early either. Harry thought for a moment about going to the kitchen, making James his morning coffee or even breakfast in bed. But then he remembered that it was Saturday, and the idea of having to explain to Marnie or Romeo or worse yet Juliet why he was there seemed a bit much. He rearranged the pillows behind him, and settled back to scroll through the news on his phone.

James began to stir about an hour later. He stretched his arms, looking up at Harry with eyes still hooded from sleep.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.” Harry grinned, his heart bursting at the sight of James’ ruffled hair and soft, sleepy features. James sat up.

“What time is it?” He asked, stifling a yawn.

“‘Bout half nine.” Harry said, placing his phone on the bedside table. “I was going to go and get us some coffee, but I think I can hear someone in the kitchen.” He ran his fingers along James’ arm, watching as the fine hairs stood on end. “Wasn’t sure I was ready to...” He trailed off.

James placed his hand on Harry’s, threading their fingers together. He smiled at him then let go, standing up and wrapping his dressing gown around himself. “I’ll face the rabble,” He said, “They should disperse soon.”

Harry stood as well, grabbing his boxers from the floor and putting them on. He pulled his t-shirt over his head. “I’ll come. With you there it won't be as scary.” James stared at Harry for a moment and then nodded.

Once they were downstairs it became apparent that Harry needn’t have worried; The living area was deserted. James went about making coffee in the cafetière, while Harry got juice and fruit and yogurt from the fridge. He chopped some melon and mango into two bowls, relishing the smell of the brewing coffee and the companionable silence between them. This was what he had imagined it would be like when he had married James.

They ate together at the table, knees knocking gently beneath it as James opened the weekend newspaper to the crossword. They used to do it together every Saturday, and although Harry knew that James could probably get all of the answers alone, he always read them aloud and always left a pause for Harry to have a go. He did the same today. They washed the dishes side-by-side, and then Harry settled onto the sofa to watch some daytime TV while James went to shower and dress. Harry pulled his favourite blanket over himself and took a deep breath of the familiar smell.

After a while James reemerged in a shirt and chinos, his hair slick with small droplets of water. Harry couldn’t help but beam at him. James returned it with a crooked grin, and went to put on more coffee. Harry muted the television, turning his head towards the sound of the running tap.

“Hey, I was thinking, maybe I could stay here today.” James hummed in agreement, as he flicked the switch on the kettle. “And maybe if the others come home, we could all hang out.” He continued. “I could go and get Isaac, and…”

James’ hand stilled on the mug he was reaching for. “Isaac.” He murmured.

“Yeah…” Harry suddenly felt a little more hesitant. “We could spend some time together as…”

“I don’t think this is going to work.” James interrupted, returning the mug to the drying rack with more force than was necessary. The sound made Harry jump.

“What?” He said, gaping at James in confusion.

“Us. It’s not going to work.” James said, still not turning to face Harry. “Now I’ve got to go and do some bits in the office.”

“James, it’s Saturday.” Harry reasoned, standing up and letting the throw fall to the floor.

“I’ve got things to do.” James marched to the door, reaching for his coat and picking up his briefcase. “It’s probably best that you’re not here when I get back.” The door slammed as he left.

Harry remained where he was, rubbing the back of his neck. He was used to James’ fluctuating moods, but; What. The. Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonet XVII by Pablo Neruda


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get up! Current situation in life is crazy. The world, even more so!

But James didn’t go to work. After closing the door behind him he made a beeline for the Love Boat, dashing in before anyone could spot him. As he nursed his black coffee, he watched carefully from the window in the stern until he saw Harry step out of the flat, glancing around as he pulled his hood up over his messy hair. Then he went back. Disposing of the morning’s paper in the recycling bin without reading another word, James plugged in his laptop, pulled up his emails and tried to do some work. He stretched out his fingers, hovering over the keys for a moment before pulling them back into tight balls. The more he tried to focus his mind, the more it wandered. He wasn’t a school boy with a crush, surely he had more self discipline than to sit consumed by thoughts of Harry in his bed the night before, or his face that morning when James had left. He closed his eyes. Then again, perhaps not. 

A largely unproductive hour had passed by the time the front door clicked open and James was joined in the living room by Marnie, Romeo and Juliet, chatting convivially as they entered. James sighed loudly and rolled his eyes in theatrical recrimination for the disturbance, which of course was no disturbance at all.

“You were up late today, my darling.” Marnie tutted slightly. “We were going to invite you out for brunch with us, but I’ve never known you to sleep in like that.”

“Yeah,” Juliet agreed, “I thought _ we _ were meant to be the lazy teenagers!” She grabbed her headphones and a banana from the fruit bowl, and retreated straight to her room.

“Well, I’m going to go and take a bath.” Marnie followed, touching James’ hair briefly and tenderly as she passed him, “Wash away the debris of Saturday morning in the Hutch.” 

“Coffee?” Romeo asked, once the two of them were alone. James nodded, his eyes still fixed on the computer screen that had barely changed in the past hour. Romeo pottered around leisurely until the coffee was made, and at the sounds of his son in the kitchen James’ fingers unstiffened slightly as they slid across the keyboard. When Romeo finally placed the mug on the table next to him, the strong aroma that wafted up on the steam cleared his mind further as he lifted the china to his lips. Romeo sat down opposite and folded his arms, waiting for something. James knew that look well, but he wouldn’t give in to it. Unhurriedly he sipped his coffee and avoided the boy’s eyes. 

“So,” Romeo said after several moments passed, unperturbed by James’ tactics. “I saw Harry run past the house like three times when we were parking earlier.” 

“Is that right?” James replaced his mug on the coaster, and turned resolutely back to his work.

“What’s that about?”

“Hmmm? Oh, I don’t know, new exercise regime?”

Romeo remained where he sat, still eyeing his father. “Don’t believe you.” He said flatly. 

James continued to ignore his son, slowly typing something he would no doubt have to reword completely when he read it over.

“It’s obvious something’s going on again. Come on, admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit.” James tried to smile, “Now, don’t you have someone less busy and important who you could be bothering instead of me.”

“But you wanna be with him, right?” Romeo continued as though James hadn’t spoken. “That’s why he was here the other night.”

Romeo clearly wasn’t going to let this go. James began to stand, to extract himself from the situation at least. “I’m not having this conversation with a 17-year-old who doesn’t know the first thing about...” Before he could move Romeo had put his hand firmly on James’ forearm, stilling him. He looked at his father with such concern etched into his face that James couldn’t help but sink back into his chair. 

“I don’t know if I can do it.” James spoke softly. He wasn’t sure that he even wanted Romeo to hear his words.

“Do what?”

“Love him.” James could barely look his son in the eyes as he spoke, but Romeo just scoffed. James flinched at the sound.

“Don't do that! We all know you love Harry. It's obvious to anyone with...”

“Not Harry.” James interrupted, voice still low and unsure. “Isaac.”

Comprehension flooded Romeo’s face. “You thought that about me at first, and we’ve done okay.” He smiled at his father. James could tell it was meant to be reassuring, but it just looked sad.

“Well, you were relatively well formed by the time we met. It might have been different if I’d been in your life from the start.”

Romeo shook his head slightly, but he didn't say anything. Of course he didn’t say anything. He must have known as well as James himself that he was unfit to play a leading role in this child’s life.

“I didn’t have the best role model for fatherhood, did I?” James continued, spitting the words out at the memories of his own father. “I don’t even know how one would begin to… to bring up a child with...” He shook his head angrily, let out a long breath, and started again. “Harry comes with Isaac now. I know what it’s like to have a parent in your life who doesn’t love you, I know the damage it does. I can’t do that to them.”

“Dad, Isaac was here for ages and you looked after him, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but now Harry’s back it’s different. He and I, we’ve tried so many times. Everytime something happens to wreck it. Someone gets in the way, and I can’t… I can’t do it. I can’t lose him again.” James finally looked at Romeo _ . _“What if I can’t look after them both? What if I mess it up?”

“Then you’ll make it right. I know you’re not perfect, but you’re my… you’re, you know...” All James wanted was to look away, but he couldn’t. “I believe in you.” Romeo said quietly, “And so does Harry.” James swallowed, and nodded slowly. 

“Look, I said I’d go see Tom for a bit. You gonna be alright?” Romeo asked as he stood, reaching out to squeeze James’ shoulder. James smiled tightly, trying to make it reach his eyes. He didn’t trust his voice in that moment. “I’ll see you later yeah?” Romeo added, and left James alone again. 

  
  


“Harry!” Harry looked up from his phone, holding up a hand to block the bright stream of the sun that fell across the figure making its way towards him. Despite the cold, the sky was a bright blue and the sparse clouds danced languidly across it. Harry sat in his running gear at one of the tables outside the Dog, catching his breath before he set off again. He’d spent the morning running laps of the village, hoping to catch James on his way back to the house. So far no luck, and Harry was beginning to lose hope of seeing him today. But now Romeo was striding over, the determined set of his jaw making him look every inch a man on a mission. And very like his father as well.

“You alright, mate?” Harry smiled up as Romeo loomed over him, and gestured to the seat opposite. Romeo slipped off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, before leaning forward and holding Harry’s gaze. He really meant business. Harry pressed his lips together, trying to stifle a laugh.

“James is moping about at home again.” Romeo told him, “I don’t get why you two aren’t back together already.”

“Don’t ask me, mate, I agree with you!” 

“So what are you gonna do about it?”

“What can I do?” Harry shrugged his shoulders, “He’s so hot and cold. I don’t know how to get through to him.”

“He’s scared.” Romeo said matter of factly, and Harry frowned. He still sometimes found it hard to imagine James being scared of anything, he was so strong, so resolute. The more he knew James - the more that he loved him - the more he understood the contradictions and the anxieties that his facade was built upon. But he still sometimes needed reminding that James’ foundations were more fragile than most.

“Of what…?” Harry asked faintly. 

“You want a list?” Romeo smirked and raised his hand, spreading out his long fingers. “He’s scared he won’t be able to look after Isaac. Scared he’ll mess him up like Mac did to him.” Harry made a face of disbelief. “He’s scared he’ll let you down.” Romeo continued, checking off each assertion on his fingers. “And obviously he’s scared he’ll lose you again.”

“He won’t lose me!” Harry declared, throwing up his hands. “What does he think is going to happen?” They’d made it this far, and they still wanted to be together. What could James possibly think would tempt him away now? “I know I haven’t always made it easy for him to trust me. Everything that happened with Ste…”

“And Sadie, too. I don’t even really understand that. I mean, you’re gay, right?”

“Yeah, totally.” Harry nodded his head emphatically. “When I slept with Sadie, it was nothing like it is with your dad.”

Romeo grimaced theatrically. “Urg, come on mate, let’s not.”

“Sorry, I just mean… at that point my wedding had been a disaster, right. Your dad had dumped me, _ my _ dad threw me out. I’d made a _ lot _ of mistakes, and I guess I just wanted to be as far from Harry Thompson as possible. Me and Sadie went out in boarding school. We’d never done _ that _ , but we’d always been close and it just felt, I dunno, familiar. Plus I was really drunk. _ Really _ drunk. We both were.” Harry sighed, running a hand across his face. “Don’t think either of us enjoyed it, just kinda pushed through, you know? It was a massive mistake, and we said we’d forget about it after but then…”

“She got pregnant.”

“Yeah. And that massive drunken mistake blew up my relationship with James, everything I was looking forward to. I mean, I’m so glad I have Isaac but I don’t know where we go from here.” Harry looked down, trying to disguise the tears pressing at the back of his eyes, threatening to spill over. He used his thumbnail to pick at a small splinter jutting out of the tabletop. “I really do love your dad.”

“I know.” Romeo looked around the patio as though searching for something, and Harry appreciated him not drawing attention to the tiny stream now escaping down his cheek. Suddenly, Romeo stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. He gave Harry a firm pat in the middle on his back as he walked around him. “Come on, mate. I’ve got a plan.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s in quarantine? ✌️ Putting this time to good use, as you can see!

Harry sat inside the dog, the pint in front of him almost empty and his knee jiggling nervously under the table. Don’t watch the door. He tried to tell himself this every minute or so, but it was more easily said than done. He just couldn’t look away. Each time it swung he jumped like a skittish deer, wide eyes glued until he saw that it wasn’t who he was waiting for. Finally, after opening for what felt like the hundredth time in fifteen minutes, James stepped through the door. Harry stood up instantly, and James froze when he saw him. He beckoned James over, acutely aware of his clammy hands and the sweat seeping through the underarms of his shirt.

“What do you want?” James asked sharply. “Be quick, I’m meeting Romeo here.”

“Actually, you’re not.” Harry said sheepishly, taking his seat again. “He texted you so you’d come and meet... me.”

“He did, did he?” James’ narrowed eyes scanned the room, looking for proof of his son summoning him under false pretences, but he sat down anyway. “For what exactly?”

“Well last time you did this, y’know decided we couldn’t be together for some silly reason, you won  _ me _ back by crashing my date right?” Harry noticed James’ jaw clench, his left hand squeezing into a fist on the table in front of him. He swallowed and pressed on, trying to keep his tone light. As if this wasn’t one of the most important moments of his life so far. “But you’re not dating anyone else as far as I know, so I can’t do that. Had to come up with another option for a public declaration, and humiliation of course, and well...” Harry placed a flyer face up on the table, pushing it towards James. His eyes widened as they scanned the gaudy pink bubble writing.  _ Karaoke Night @ the Dog; all your favourite hits sung by YOU. _

“You’re joking...”

“Nope. So,” Harry glanced down at his watch, blinking out yellow light in the shape of 19.48. “We’ve got about 10 minutes to sort this out. Romeo’s waiting over there,” He inclined his head towards the stage, festooned with glittery streamers and inflatable props, to where Romeo sat awkwardly with his head bowed behind the decks. “All I’ve gotta do is give him the signal and you, James Nightingale, will be serenaded in front of the whole village.” Harry raised his eyebrows, adding, “With Blue. All Rise.”

Harry sucked his bottom lip, but couldn’t conceal his smile as James made a face at him. “Isn’t that song about a break up?”

Just how James knew quite so much about Blue’s back catalogue Harry didn’t ask. He’d have to store  _ that _ away in his teasing arsenal for once they’d worked this all out. Too risky at the moment.

“Well, yeah, but you've just gotta ignore the words. It’s the sentiment that counts, ain’t it?” Harry grinned at James, who shook his head in affectionate exasperation. “Come on.” Harry laughed. “You’re the only one who can save us all from this horror. Romeo’s been practicing the rap verse. You’ve gotta stop this.”

James continued to look down at the flyer in front of him, his lips pressed together.

“I know why you don’t think we should try again.” Harry’s voice became softer. “You’re scared, I get it, but you don’t have to be.” He leant forwards, his fingers brushing James’ wrist through his shirtsleeves. “James, you always told me I was capable of more, but you are too. As long as we stick together, as long as we’re honest, I know we can do it. We can be a family, all of us.”

“You really want to be my boyfriend again?”

“How about husband?” Harry lifted his hand carefully and placed it over James’. “I love you.” His voice was so quiet now that he wasn't even sure that James could hear it over the buzz of the pub. “I know a lot has happened, but I don’t regret marrying you, James.” He gave James’ hand a small squeeze, trying to catch his eye. “Do... do you regret it?”

James didn’t speak for a moment, staring down at Harry's hand laid so gently over his own. Then he turned his wrist so that their palms pressed together. “Never.” He whispered.

At that precise moment Marleena McQueen sauntered over to them, her lips bright pink and spread into as large a smile as she could muster. It was directed entirely towards Harry. Since his release, Harry had had to interact with all of the McQueens, despite their dwindling numbers in the village. In fact, some of them had even visited him when he first got out. Goldie had kept her arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face, but Sylver had passed a small, carved wooden duck into his hand and smiled sadly. Breda, who Harry learnt had been there when Isaac was born, was the polar opposite to the somber mood of her children. She pushed herself onto her toes and wrapped her bird-like arms around Harry’s neck. “The things you did for that lickle angel.” She had cried into his chest, almost weeping with emotion. “You’re a good man, a good father. God bless you Harry Thompson.” It had been  _ really _ weird. 

Marleena looked between the two of them, and lowered her voice slightly. “I’m afraid we’ve still got no dover sole, but anything you want is on the house today. ‘Least we can do after what our Mercy put you through, Harry, love.” She crossed herself, raising her eyes briefly to the ceiling.

“Wonderful.” James said, clearing his throat and picking up a menu from the table. “We’ll start with a bottle of your most expensive champagne then. What is it, Dom Perignon?”

“We’ve not got any champagne in at the moment, love,” Marleena said, glancing nervously to the bar behind her, “But we’ve got a lovely bottle of Cava for £19.99.”

James pursed his lips as Harry tried not to laugh.

“Hm. That will have to do won’t it.”

“Special occasion, is it?” Marleena asked, as she collected Harry’s empty pint glass from the table, placing it alongside the others on the tray in her hand. 

“Well yes, actually.” James said, smiling softly at Harry. “We’re celebrating our marriage.” Harry’s heart stuttered for a moment. He squeezed James’ hand tighter. This was it.

“Well I never.” Marleena murmured, barely disguising her shock. “When’s that happening then?” 

“It actually happened a few months ago, but circumstances rather hampered the festivities, I’m sure you understand.” James winked at Harry as Marleena squirmed. “Now, if you don’t mind,” He continued, his voice overly saccharine, “Could you tell Romeo to stop skulking behind that speaker and come and join us for a glass?”


	16. Chapter 16

“Just try to relax.” James murmured, pushing his arm through the gap in the beige barrier that separated him from Harry.

“I can’t breath.” Harry spoke through his teeth, his eyes tightly shut and his knuckles white as he gripped the armrest.

“Hold my hand.” James rested his elbow on the sharp edge as he reached for Harry’s fingers. “Come on, it’ll be okay.” Harry opened his eyes and looked at James, panic cast across his features. He took in a deep, shaky breath and shook his head. “Harry.” James repeated firmly, “It’ll be okay.”

James knew Harry was a nervous flyer. He hadn’t had the chance to do it many times before. James had been surprised by his reaction when they’d first entered an airplane together on their only prior holiday. The sweaty brow, the breathlessness, the catastrophising. James had almost opted to simply take the Eurostar to Paris for their honeymoon but he wanted it to be perfect and that meant no compromise. Even if no compromise also meant Harry drawing blood by digging his nails painfully into the back of James’ hand.

“You know, I could certainly take your mind off all of this if that pesky seatbelt light was off.” James inclined his head toward the vacant toilet sign at the end of their first class cabin, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “I had always thought that I would be a member of the Mile High club at some point. Now seems as good a time as any to join.” 

Harry let out a short laugh, “No way is that happening. Imagine if we  _ did _ go down? I’m not having my body found…”

“Mid-coitus?” James finished for him, and Harry made a face. James laughed, giving his hand another squeeze. “See, it’s already taking your mind off your aeronautical paranoia.” At that moment the plane began to taxi along the runway, picking up speed as it glided across the tarmac. Harry scrunched up his eyes again, his grip on James’ hand tightening once more. James lifted it to his lips, leaning over to leave a soft kiss on his hot skin.

“Tell me what we’re doing.” Harry said quietly, still not opening his eyes as the aircraft began to bump and rise into the air. “Come on, if we die here all your hard work will be for nothing. Tell me before it’s too late.”

James could hear the tension in Harry’s voice, even as he tried to disguise it in jest. So he told Harry his plans, and slowly Harry’s forehead began to smooth out once more, his fingers relaxing as James used his thumb to rub varying shapes across his wrist. Florence was their first stop, as Harry already knew. James would take him to the Uffizi and introduce him to some of his favorite Pre-Raphaelite artworks. They would wander across the Ponte Vecchio, up the Boboli gardens, around the Duomo. They would take in an opera, and eat pizza (Harry’s favourite) and drink Chianti (his favorite) in little local restaurants. Then they would rent a car and drive out to a vineyard based in an old castle nestled among the Tuscan hills, in which one of James’ clients had an apartment that he had generously offered them for the week. After that it would be a train ride through the Italian countryside, first class naturally, towards Sorento where they would spend the remainder of the fortnight soaking up the sun on the Amalfi beaches. Harry couldn’t help but grin at this point. “You gonna play volleyball with me?” He teased, looking into James’ eyes.

“I was rather thinking I’d be more of a spectator.” James said, “Although,” He leant in closer to Harry, “You know I’m putty in your hands when you wear those little red swimming trunks.” Harry blushed but held James’ gaze, a smirk passing over both of their lips.

A sudden chime alerted them to the seatbelt sign switching off as the plane straightened out, pushing itself smoothly through the thin air outside. James patted Harry’s arm affectionately, and raised his hand to gain the attention of a flight attendant. “Two glasses of champagne, please.” He asked and, when they each had one in hand, held his aloft in an invitation to toast. “To the future.” He proffered.

“To us,” Harry added, delicately clinking the side of his glass against James’. “And all our messed up flaws.”

An hour later, James folded the paperback he held in his hand and set it down on the tray in front of him. He glanced to the chair next to him, where Harry had drifted off watching a film, headphones skewiff and chin drooping onto his chest. It was only a short flight but they had been up at the crack of dawn to reach the airport on time, and Harry certainly wasn’t known for being an earlier riser. James caught a flight attendant again on their way through and requested a blanket. He stood up, leaning across to drape it over Harry the best he could from his restricted position. The stale air in the cabin had cooled now, and he was loath to let Harry wake up cold.

Settling back into his seat, James closed his own eyes and smiled to himself. He couldn’t help it. He felt that he had been smiling constantly for the past three weeks, ever since Harry and Romeo had duped him into entering the Dog. He had smiled when Harry returned home with him that night. When Harry and Isaac had moved their possessions back into the flat. He even smiled when Marnie and Tony insisted that they hold another reception, one for their family and friends to attend. James could think of nothing worse than standing in front of a room of acquaintances, few he actually cared about, attempting to put his emotions into a pithy speech. But Harry had seemed rather taken with the idea, immediately conspiring with Marnie about flowers and entrees. That was how James had found himself the day before standing at the front of a makeshift aisle in the middle of the Hutch, clutching Harry’s hands as all eyes fixed on the two of them. And it had been rather nice after all. His mother drank too much and cried on Diane’s shoulder, wailing how she had never imagined she would live to see this day. Tony mixed up the timings on the salmon en croute, and they ended up eating cold Sunday roast rushed over from the Dog. But the grin on Harry’s face, the twinkle in his eye, his warm laugh as he held Isaac and bounced from guest to guest making all feel welcome and wanted, it made it all worth it. James stood in a corner with a glass of champagne and watched his husband, the light of his life, this beautiful boy who had entered his heart without meaning to and set it aflame. And he smiled.

Harry stepped off the airplane, holdall in hand, and carefully made his way down the narrow stairs and onto the tarmac. The midmorning air was warm on his face, the sun high and bright over the vast hills that made up the skyline. He pulled his sunglasses from his pocket to cover his eyes and turned back to James who followed just behind. “Made it.” He laughed. James simply put his arm around Harry’s shoulder, pulling him in and ducking slightly to kiss his temple. He didn’t let go as they began to walk towards the glass doors that led to customs. Harry slipped one of his hands into James’ back pocket, giving his bum a discrete squeeze through the soft cotton twill of his trousers. He loved it when James was like this, and it happened so rarely. When he held him close even with others around; When he kissed him in public and held his hand. He knew that James was constantly at odds with himself when it came to public displays of affection. On the one hand James wasn’t shy about showing off what he had, and Harry knew that sometimes extended to him. But James also hated to appear vulnerable, to reveal to others his tender side. Harry had never minded. He loved that there was a part of James that no one else saw, and their relationship really wasn’t anyone else’s business. But he couldn’t help a rush of pride as James pulled him closer still, not an inch of air between them as they were bustled into line in front of passport control. Once they were through, having separated briefly to appease the frowning official behind the counter, Harry grabbed James’ hand and laced their fingers together, not ready for the contact to end quite yet. James absentmindedly brought it to his lips, and Harry couldn’t conceal his grin as he led them to the baggage claim.

“Once we get to the hotel, we can call Tony to see how Isaac is doing.” James suggested, as they watched the monotonous carousel of luggage dance before them.

“Not the first thing we’ll do, I hope.” James shook his head at Harry’s flirtatious tone, but the sides of his lips twitched up slightly.

“Yes, the first thing. To think that I’m going to have to be the responsible parent here.”

Harry laughed, letting go of James’ hand and turning to wrap his arms around his neck, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Well, I’ve finally got you all to myself, ain’t I? I’m not going to waste a second of it.”

“Mr Thompson, you are going to be a bad influence on me.” James lifted his hand to Harry’s cheek, his thumb brushing fleetingly across his jaw before he kissed him.

“Don’t you mean Mr Nightingale?” Harry whispered against his lips. A deep, possessive noise rumbled from the back of James’ throat, and he pulled Harry more fully against him, hands firm on his hips.

They didn’t notice as their suitcases slid past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Thanks for reading, friends, and for the lovely comments along the way.
> 
> There might be a bonus, because I love a bonus. There will probably be more writing for these two in the future, because I can't seem to leave them behind how ever much I try. In the meantime, keep safe and be happy.


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